THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT 
 
 Ay res Book Shop 
 
 N.w and Old B.ok.J
 
 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 A TALE OF THREE DESTINIES
 
 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 A TALE OF THREE DESTINIES 
 
 BY 
 H. RIDER HAGGARD 
 
 " Felix qui potuit return cognoscere causas, 
 Atque metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum 
 Subjecit pedibus; strepitumque Acherontis avari." 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 91 AND 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 
 
 LONDON AND BOMBAY 
 
 1903
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1902, 
 Bv H. RIDER HAGGARD. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 Xotiuooft Jprcss 
 
 J. S. Gushing & Co. Berwick & Smith Co. 
 Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
 
 College 
 Library 
 
 PR 
 
 4131 
 
 Dedication 
 
 My dear John Berwick, 
 
 When you read her history in MS. 
 you thought well of "Stella Fregeliits" and, whilst I 
 hesitated, urged her introduction to the world. Therefore 
 I ask you, my severe and accomplished critic, to accept 
 the burden of a book for which you are to some extent 
 responsible. Whatever its fate, at least it has pleased 
 you and therefore has not been written quite in vain. 
 
 H. RIDER HAGGARD. 
 
 Ditchingham, 
 
 2$th August, 1903.
 
 AUTHOR'S NOTE 
 
 THE author feels that he owes some apology to 
 his readers for his boldness in offering to them a 
 story which is in no sense a romance of the char- 
 acter that perhaps they expect from him ; which 
 has, moreover, few exciting incidents and no 
 climax of the accustomed order, since the end of 
 it only indicates its real beginning. 
 
 His excuse must be that, in the first instance, 
 he wrote it purely to please himself and now 
 publishes it in the hope that it may please some 
 others. The problem of such a conflict, common 
 enough mayhap, did we but know it, between a 
 departed and a present personality, of which the 
 battle-ground is an aching human heart and the 
 prize its complete possession ; between earthly 
 duty and spiritual desire also ; was one that had 
 long attracted him. Finding at length a few 
 months of leisure, he treated the difficult theme, 
 not indeed as he would have wished to do, but 
 as best he could. 
 
 He may explain further that when he drafted 
 this book, now some five years ago, instruments
 
 viii AUTHOR'S NOTE 
 
 of the nature of the " aerophone " were not so 
 much talked of as they are to-day. In fact this 
 aerophone has little to do with his characters 
 or their history, and the main motive of its 
 introduction to his pages was to suggest how 
 powerless are all such material means to bring 
 within mortal reach the transcendental and 
 unearthly ends which, with their aid, were 
 attempted by Morris Monk. 
 
 These, as the dreamer learned, must be far 
 otherwise attained, whether in truth and spirit, 
 or perchance, in visions only. 
 
 1903.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. MORRIS, MARY, AND THE AEROPHONE i 
 
 II. THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS . . 8 
 
 III. -'POOR PORSON" 24 
 
 IV. MARY PREACHES AND THE COLONEL PREVAILS . 40 
 V. A PROPOSAL AND A PROMISE . . . -52 
 
 VI. THE GOOD DAYS 67 
 
 VII. BEAULIEU 78 
 
 VIII. THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER ... go 
 
 IX. Miss FREGELIUS 109 
 
 X. DAWN AND THE LAND 122 
 
 XI. A MORNING SERVICE 137 
 
 XII. MR. LAYARD'S WOOING 153 
 
 XIII. Two QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER . . .171 
 
 XIV. THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL . . . -193 
 XV. THREE INTERVIEWS 211 
 
 XVI. A MARRIAGE AND AFTER 231 
 
 XVII. THE RETURN OF MARY 245 
 
 XVIII. Two EXPLANATIONS 257
 
 x CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XIX. MORRIS, THE MARRIED MAN . . . .273 
 
 XX. STELLA'S DIARY 289 
 
 XXI. THE END OF STELLA'S DIARY .... 305 
 
 XXII. THE EVIL GATE 321 
 
 XXIII. STELLA COMES 335 
 
 XXIV. DREAMS AND THE SLEEP 348
 
 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MORRIS, MARY, AND THE AEROPHONE 
 
 ABOVE, the sky seemed one vast arc of solemn blue, set 
 here and there with points of tremulous fire ; below, to 
 the shadowy horizon, stretched the plain of the soft grey 
 sea, while from the fragrances of night and earth floated 
 a breath of sleep and flowers. 
 
 A man leaned on the low wall that bordered the cliff 
 edge, and looked at sea beneath and sky above. Then 
 he contemplated the horizon, and murmured some line 
 heard or learnt in childhood, ending " where earth and 
 heaven meet." 
 
 " But they only seem to meet," he reflected to himself, 
 idly. " If I sailed to that spot they would be as wide 
 apart as ever. Yes, the stars would be as silent and as 
 far away, and the sea quite as restless and as salt. Yet 
 there must be a place where they do meet. No, Morris, 
 my friend, there is no such place in this world, material 
 or moral ; so stick to facts, and leave fancies alone." 
 
 But that night this speculative man felt in the mood 
 for fancies, for presently he was staring at one of the 
 constellations, and saying to himself, " Why not ? Well, 
 why not ? Granted force that can travel through ether, 
 whatever ether is why should it stop travelling ?
 
 2 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Give it time enough, a few seconds, or a few minutes or 
 a few years, and why should it not reach that star? 
 Very likely it does, only there it wastes itself. What 
 would be needed to make it serviceable ? Simply this 
 that on the star there should dwell an Intelligence 
 armed with one of my instruments, when I have per- 
 fected them, or the secret of them. Then who knows 
 what might happen ? " and he laughed a little to himself 
 at the vagary. 
 
 From all of which wandering speculations it may be 
 gathered that Morris Monk was that rather common yet 
 problematical person, an inventor who dreamed dreams. 
 
 An inventor, in truth, he was, although as yet he had 
 never really invented anything. Brought up as an 
 electrical engineer, after a very brief experience of his 
 profession he had fallen victim to an idea and become 
 a physicist. This was his idea, or the main point of it 
 for its details do not in the least concern our history : 
 that by means of a certain machine which he had con- 
 ceived, but not as yet perfected, it would be possible to 
 complete all existing systems of aerial communication, 
 and enormously to simplify their action and enlarge 
 their scope. His instruments, which were wireless tele- 
 phones aerophones he called them were to be made 
 in pairs, twins that should talk only to each other. They 
 required no high poles, or balloons, or any other cum- 
 brous and expensive appliance; indeed, their size was 
 no larger than that of a rather thick despatch box. And 
 he had triumphed ; the thing was done in all but one 
 or two details. 
 
 For two long years he had struggled with these, and 
 still they eluded him. Once he had succeeded that was
 
 MORRIS, MARY, AND THE AEROPHONE 3 
 
 the dreadful thing. Once for a while the instruments 
 had worked, and with a space of several miles between 
 them. But this was the maddening part of it he 
 had never been able to repeat the exact conditions ; or, 
 rather, to discover precisely what they were. On that 
 occasion he had entrusted one of his machines to his 
 first cousin, Mary Porson, a big girl with her hair still 
 down her back, rather idle in disposition, but very intel- 
 ligent, when she chose. Mary, for the most part, had 
 been brought up at her father's house, close by. Often, 
 too, she stayed with her uncle for weeks at a stretch, 
 so at that time Morris was as intimate with her as a 
 man of eight and twenty usually is with a relative in 
 her teens. 
 
 The arrangement on this particular occasion was that 
 she should take the machine or aerophone, as its in- 
 ventor had named it to her home. The next morning, 
 at the appointed hour, as Morris had often done before, 
 he tried to effect communication, but without result. On 
 the following day, at the same hour, he tried again, when, 
 to his astonishment, instantly the answer came back. 
 Yes, as distinctly as though she were standing by his 
 side, he heard his cousin Mary's voice. 
 
 "Are you there?" he said, quite hopelessly, merely 
 as a matter of form of very common form and well- 
 nigh fell to the ground when he received the reply : 
 
 "Yes, yes, but I have just been telegraphed for to go 
 to Beaulieu; my mother is very ill." 
 
 "What is the matter with her?" he asked; and she 
 replied : 
 
 " Inflammation of the lungs but I must stop ; I can't 
 speak any more." Then came some sobs and silence.
 
 4 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 That same afternoon, by Mary's direction, the aero- 
 phone was brought back to him in a dog-cart, and three 
 days later he heard that her mother, Mrs. Person, was 
 dead. 
 
 Some months passed, and when they met again, on her 
 return from the Riviera, Morris found his cousin changed. 
 She had parted from him a child, and now, beneath the 
 shadow of the wings of grief, suddenly she had become 
 a woman. Moreover, the best and frankest part of their 
 intimacy seemed to have vanished. There was a veil 
 between them. Mary thought of little, and at this time 
 seemed to care for no one except her mother, who was 
 dead. And Morris, who had loved the child, recoiled 
 somewhat from the new-born woman. It may be ex- 
 plained that he was afraid of women. Still, with an eye to 
 business, he spoke to her about the aerophone ; and, so far 
 as her memory served her, she confirmed all the details 
 of their short conversation across the gulf of empty space. 
 
 "You see," he said, trembling with excitement, "I 
 have got it at last." 
 
 "It looks like it," she answered, wearily, her thoughts 
 already far away. " Why shouldn't you ? There are 
 so many odd things of the sort. But one can never be 
 sure ; it mightn't work next time." 
 
 " Will you try again ? " he asked. 
 
 "If you like," she answered; "but I don't believe I 
 shall hear anything now. Somehow since that busi- 
 ness everything seems different to me." 
 
 " Don't be foolish," he said ; " you have nothing to do 
 with the hearing ; it is my new receiver." 
 
 "I daresay," she replied; "but, then, why couldn't 
 you make it work with other people ? "
 
 MORRIS, MARY, AND THE AEROPHONE 5 
 
 Morris answered nothing. He, too, wondered why. 
 
 Next morning they made the experiment. It failed. 
 Other experiments followed at intervals, most of which 
 were fiascos, although some were partially successful. 
 Thus, at times Mary could hear what he said. But 
 except for a word or two, and now and then a sentence, 
 he could not hear her whom, when she was still a child 
 and his playmate, once he had heard so clearly. 
 
 " Why is it ? " he said, a year or two later, dashing his 
 fist upon the table in impotent rage. " It has been ; 
 why can't it be ? " 
 
 Mary turned her large blue eyes up to the ceiling, and 
 reflectively rubbed her dimpled chin with a very pretty 
 finger. 
 
 " Isn't that the kind of question they used to ask 
 oracles?" she asked lazily "Oh! no, it was the 
 oracles themselves that were so vague. Well, I suppose 
 because ' was ' is as different from ' is ' as ' is ' is from 
 ' shall be.' We are changed, Cousin ; that's all." 
 
 He pointed to his patent receiver, and grew angry. 
 
 " Oh, it isn't the receiver," she said, smoothing her 
 curling hair ; " it's us. You don't understand me a bit 
 not now and that's why you can't hear me. Take 
 my advice, Morris" and she looked at him sharply 
 " when you find a woman whom you can hear on your 
 patent receiver, you had better marry her. It will be a 
 good excuse for keeping her at a distance afterwards." 
 
 Then he lost his temper; indeed, he raved, and stormed, 
 and nearly smashed the patent receiver in his fury. To 
 a scientific man, let it be admitted, it was nothing short 
 of maddening to be told that the successful working of 
 his instrument, to the manufacture of which he had given
 
 6 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 eight years of toil and study, depended upon some pre- 
 existent sympathy between the operators of its divided 
 halves. If that were so, what was the use of his won- 
 derful discovery, for who could ensure a sympathetic 
 correspondent ? And yet the fact remained that when, 
 in their playmate days, he understood his cousin Mary, 
 and when her quiet, indolent nature had been deeply 
 moved by the shock of the news of her mother's peril, 
 the aerophone had worked. Whereas now, when she 
 had become a grown-up young lady, he did not under- 
 stand her any longer he, whose heart was wrapped 
 up in his experiments, and who by nature feared the 
 adult members of her sex, and shrank from them ; when, 
 too, her placid calm was no longer stirred, work it would 
 not. 
 
 She laughed at his temper; then grew serious, and 
 said : 
 
 " Don't get angry, Morris. After all, there are lots 
 of things that you and I can't understand, and it isn't 
 odd that you should have tumbled across one of them. 
 If you think of it, nobody understands anything. They 
 know that certain things happen, and how to make them 
 happen ; but they don't know why they happen, or 
 why, as in your case, when they ought to happen, they 
 won't." 
 
 " It is all very well for you to be philosophical," he 
 answered, turning upon her ; " but can't you see, Mary, 
 that the thing there is my life's work ? It is what I 
 have given all my strength and all my brain to make, 
 and if it fails in the end why, then I fail too, once and 
 forever. And I have made it talk. It talked perfectly 
 between this place and Seaview, and now you stand there
 
 MORRIS, MARY, AND THE AEROPHONE 7 
 
 and tell me that it won't work any more because I don't 
 understand you. Then what am I to do ? " 
 
 " Try to understand me, if you think it worth while, 
 which I don't ; or go on experimenting," she answered. 
 " Try to find some substance which is less exquisitely 
 sensitive, something a little grosser, more in key with 
 the material world; or to discover someone whom you 
 do understand. Don't lose heart ; don't be beaten after 
 all these years." 
 
 " No," he answered, " I won't unless I die," and he 
 turned to go. 
 
 " Morris," she said, in a softer voice, " I am lazy, I 
 know. Perhaps that is why I adore people who can 
 work. So, although you don't think anything of me, I 
 will do my honest best to get into sympathy with you 
 again; yes, and to help in any way I can. No ; it's not 
 a joke. I would give a great deal to see the thing a 
 success." 
 
 " Why do you say I don't think anything of you, 
 Mary ? Of course, it isn't true. Besides, you are my 
 cousin, and we have always been good friends since 
 you were a little thing." 
 
 She laughed. " Yes, and I suppose that as you had 
 no brothers or sisters they taught you to pray for your 
 cousin, didn't they ? Oh, I know all about it. It is my 
 unfortunate sex that is to blame ; while I was a mere 
 torn-boy it was different. No one can serve two mas- 
 ters, can they ? You have chosen to serve a machine 
 that won't go, and I daresay that you are wise. Yes, I 
 think that it is the better part until you find someone 
 that will make it go and then you would adore her 
 by aerophone ! "
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS 
 
 PRESENTLY Morris heard a step upon the lawn, and 
 turned to see his father sauntering towards him. Colo- 
 nel Monk, C.B., was an elderly man, over sixty indeed, 
 but still of an upright and soldierly bearing. His 
 record was rather distinguished. In his youth he had 
 served in the Crimea, and in due course was promoted to 
 the command of a regiment of Guards. After this, cer- 
 tain diplomatic abilities caused him to be sent to one of 
 the foreign capitals as military attache^ and in reward 
 of this service, on retiring, he was created a Companion 
 of the Bath. In appearance he was handsome also ; in 
 fact, much better looking than his son, with his iron-grey 
 hair, his clear-cut features somewhat marred in effect 
 by a certain shiftiness of the mouth, and his large 
 dark eyes. Morris had those dark eyes also they re- 
 deemed his face from plainness, for otherwise it showed 
 no beauty, the features being too irregular, the brow too 
 prominent, and the mouth too large. Yet it could boast 
 what, in the case of a man at any rate, is better than 
 beauty spirituality, and a certain sympathetic charm. 
 It was not the face which was so attractive, but rather 
 the intelligence, the personality that shone through it, 
 as the light shines through the horn panes of some 
 homely, massive lantern. Speculative eyes of the sort 
 
 8
 
 THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS 9 
 
 that seem to search horizons and gather knowledge 
 there, but shrink from the faces of women ; a head of 
 brown hair, short cut but untidy, an athletic, manlike 
 form to which, bizarrely enough, a slight stoop, the 
 stoop of a student, seemed to give distinction, and hands 
 slender and shapely as those of an Eastern such were 
 the characteristics of Morris Monk, or at least those of 
 them that the observer was apt to notice. 
 
 " Hullo ! Morris, are you star-gazing there ? " said 
 Colonel Monk, with a yawn. " I suppose that I must 
 have fallen asleep after dinner that comes of stopping 
 too long at once in the country and drinking port. I 
 notice you never touch it, and a good thing, too. There, 
 my cigar is out. Now's the time for that new electric 
 lighter of yours which I can never make work." 
 
 Morris fumbled in his pocket and produced the 
 lighter. Then he said : 
 
 "I am sorry, father; but I believe I forgot to charge 
 it." 
 
 "Ah ! that's just like you, if you will forgive my say- 
 ing so. You take any amount of trouble to invent and 
 perfect a thing, but when it comes to making use of it, 
 then you forget," and with a little gesture of impatience 
 the Colonel turned aside to light a match from a box 
 which he had found in the pocket of his cape. 
 
 "I am sorry," said Morris, with a sigh, "but I am 
 afraid it is true. When one's mind is very fully occu- 
 pied with one thing " and he broke off. 
 
 "Ah! that's it, Morris, that's it," said the Colonel, 
 seating himself upon a garden chair ; " this hobby-horse 
 of yours is carrying you to the devil, and your family 
 with you. I don't want to be rough, but it is time that
 
 10 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 I spoke plain. Let's see, how long is it since you left 
 the London firm ? " 
 
 " Nine years this autumn," answered Morris, setting 
 his mouth a little, for he knew what was coming. The 
 port drunk after claret had upset his father's digestion 
 and ruffled his temper. This meant that to him 
 Morris Fate had appointed a lecture. 
 
 " Nine years, nine wasted years, idled and dreamt 
 away in a village upon the eastern coast. It is a large 
 slice out of a man's life, my boy. By the time that I 
 was your age I had done a good deal," said his father, 
 meditatively. When he meant to be disagreeable it was 
 the Colonel's custom to become reflective. 
 
 " I can't admit that," answered Morris, in his light, 
 quick voice "I mean I can't admit that my time has 
 either been idled away or wasted. On the contrary, 
 father, I have worked very hard, as I did at college, 
 and as I have always done, with results which, without 
 boasting, I may fairly call glorious yes, glorious for 
 when they are perfected they will change the methods 
 of communication throughout the whole world." As 
 he spoke, forgetting the sharp vexation of the moment, 
 his face was irradiated with light like some evening 
 cloud on which the sun strikes suddenly. 
 
 Watching him out of the corner of his eye, even 
 in that low moonlight, his father saw those fires of 
 enthusiasm shine and die upon his son's face, and the 
 sight vexed him. Enthusiasm, as he conceived, per- 
 haps with justice, had been the ruin of Morris. Ceasing 
 to be reflective, his tone became cruel. 
 
 " Do you really think, Morris, that the world wishes 
 to have its methods of communication revolutionised ?
 
 THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS II 
 
 Aren't there enough telephones and phonograms and 
 aerial telegraphs already ? It seems to me that you 
 merely wish to add a new terror to existence. How- 
 ever, there is no need to pursue an academical discus- 
 sion, since this wretched machine of yours, on which 
 you have wasted so much time, appears to be a miserable 
 failure." 
 
 Now, to throw the non-success of his invention into 
 the teeth of the inventor, especially when that inventor 
 knows that it is successful really, although just at pres- 
 ent it does not happen to work, is a very deadly insult. 
 Few indeed could be deadlier, except, perhaps, that of 
 the cruelty which can suggest to a woman that no man 
 will ever look at her because of her plainness and lack 
 of attraction ; or the coarse taunt which, by shameless 
 implication, unjustly accuses the soldier of cowardice, 
 the diplomat of having betrayed the secrets of his 
 country, or the lawyer of having sold his brief. All 
 the more, therefore, was it to Morris's credit that he felt 
 the lash sting without a show of temper. 
 
 " I have tried to explain to you, father," he began, 
 struggling to free his clear voice from the note of 
 indignation. 
 
 " Of course you have, Morris ; don't trouble yourself 
 to repeat that long story. But even if you were suc- 
 cessful which you are not er I cannot see the 
 commercial use of this invention. As a scientific toy 
 it may be very well, though, personally, I should prefer 
 to leave it alone, since, if you go firing off your thoughts 
 and words into space, how do you know who will answer 
 them, or who will hear them ? " 
 
 " Well, father, as you understand all about it, it is no
 
 12 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 use my explaining any further. It is pretty late ; I think 
 I will be turning in." 
 
 " I had hoped," replied the Colonel, in an aggrieved 
 voice, "that you might have been able to spare me a few 
 minutes' conversation. For some weeks I have been 
 seeking an opportunity to talk to you; but somehow 
 your arduous occupations never seem to leave you free 
 for ordinary social intercourse." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Morris, " though I don't quite 
 know why you should say that. I am always about the 
 place if you want me." But in his heart he groaned, 
 guessing what was coming. 
 
 " Yes ; but you are ever working at your chemi- 
 cals and machinery in the old chapel ; or reading 
 those eternal books ; or wandering about rapt in con- 
 templation of the heavens; so that, in short, I sel- 
 dom like to trouble you with my mundane but necessary 
 affairs." 
 
 Morris made no answer ; he was a very dutiful son 
 and humble-spirited. Those who pit their intelligences 
 against the forces of Nature, and try to search out her 
 secrets, become humble. He could not altogether respect 
 his father ; the gulf between them was too wide and deep. 
 But even at his present age of three and thirty he con- 
 sidered it a duty to submit himself to him and his 
 vagaries. Outside of other reasons, his mother had 
 prayed him to do so almost with her last breath, and, 
 living or dead, Morris loved his mother. 
 
 " Perhaps you are not aware," went on Colonel Monk, 
 after a solemn pause, " that the affairs of this property 
 are approaching a crisis." 
 
 " I know something, but no details," answered Mor-
 
 THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS 13 
 
 ris. "I have not liked to interfere," he added apolo- 
 getically. 
 
 "And I have not liked to trouble you with such sordid 
 matters," rejoined his parent, with sarcasm. " I pre- 
 sume, however, that you are acquainted with the main 
 facts. I succeeded to this estate encumbered with a 
 mortgage, created by your grandfather, an extravagant 
 and unbusiness-like man. That mortgage I looked to 
 your mother's fortune to pay off, but other calls made 
 this impossible. For instance, the sea-wall here had to 
 be built if the Abbey was to be saved, and half a mile of 
 sea-walling costs something. Also very extensive repairs 
 to the house were necessary, and I was forced to take 
 three farms in hand when I retired from the army 
 fifteen years ago. This has involved a net loss of about 
 ten thousand pounds, while all the time the interest had 
 to be paid and the place kept up in a humble fashion." 
 
 " I thought that my uncle Person took over the 
 mortgage after my mother's death," interrupted Morris. 
 
 " That is so," answered his father, wincing a little ; 
 " but a creditor remains a creditor, even if he happens 
 to be a relative by marriage. I have nothing to say 
 against your uncle John, who is an excellent person 
 in his way, and well-meaning. Of course, he has been 
 justified, perfectly justified, in using his business abili- 
 ties or perhaps I should say instincts, for they are 
 hereditary to his own advantage. In fact, however, 
 directly or indirectly, he has done well out of this 
 property and his connection with our family exceed- 
 ingly well, both financially and socially. In a time of 
 stress I was forced to sell him the two miles of sea- 
 frontage building-land between here and Northwold
 
 14 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 for a mere song. During the last ten years, as you 
 know, he has cut this up into over five hundred villa 
 sites, which he has sold upon long lease at ground-rents 
 that to-day bring in annually as much as he paid for 
 the whole property." 
 
 "Yes, father; but you might have done the same. 
 He advised you to before he bought the land." 
 
 " Perhaps I might, but I am not a tradesman ; I do not 
 understand these affairs. And, Morris, I must remind 
 you that in such matters I have had no assistance. I 
 do not blame you any more than I blame myself it is 
 not in your line either but I repeat that I have had 
 no assistance." 
 
 Morris did not argue the point. " Well, father," he 
 asked, " what is the upshot ? Are we ruined ? " 
 
 " Ruined ? That is a large word, and an ugly one. 
 No, we are no more ruined than we have been for the 
 last half-dozen years, for, thank Heaven, I still have 
 resources and friends. But, of course, this place is 
 in a way expensive, and you yourself would be the last 
 to pretend that our burdens have been lessened by 
 your having abandoned the very strange profession 
 which you selected, and devoted yourself to researches 
 which, if interesting, must be called abstract " 
 
 " Forgive me, father," interrupted Morris with a ring 
 of indignation in his voice; "but you must remember 
 that I put you to no expense. In addition to what I 
 inherited from my mother, which, of course, under the 
 circumstances I do not ask for, I have my fellowship, 
 out of which I contribute something towards the cost of 
 my living and experiments, that, by the way, I keep as 
 low as possible."
 
 THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS 15 
 
 "Of course, of course," said the Colonel, who did not 
 wish to pursue this branch of the subject, but his son 
 went on : 
 
 " You know also it was at your express wish that I 
 came to live here at Monksland, as for the purposes of 
 my work it would have suited me much better to take 
 rooms in London or some other scientific centre." 
 
 " Really, my dear boy, you should control yourself," 
 broke in his father. "That is always the way with 
 recluses ; they cannot bear the slightest criticism. Of 
 course, as you were going to devote yourself to this line 
 of research it was right and proper that we should live 
 together. Surely you would not wish at my age that 
 I should be deprived of the comfort of the society of an 
 only child, especially now that your mother has left us ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, father," answered Morris, softening, 
 as was his fashion at the thought of his dead mother. 
 
 Then came a pause, and he hoped that the conversa- 
 tion was at end ; a vain hope, as it proved. 
 
 " My real object in troubling you, Morris," continued 
 his father, presently, " was very different to the unneces- 
 sary discussions into which we have drifted." 
 
 His son looked up, but said nothing. Again he knew 
 what was coming, and it was worse than anything that 
 had gone before. 
 
 " This place seems very solitary with the two of us 
 living in its great rooms. I, who am getting an old 
 fellow, and you a student and a recluse no, don't 
 deny it, for nowadays I can barely persuade you to 
 attend even the Bench or a lawn-tennis party. Well, 
 fortunately, we have power to add to our numbers ; or 
 at least you have. I wish you would marry, Morris."
 
 16 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 His son turned sharply, and answered : 
 
 " Thank you, father, but I have no fancy that way." 
 
 " Now, there's Jane Rose, or that handsome Eliza 
 Layard," went on the Colonel, taking no notice. " I 
 have reason to know that you might have either of 
 them for the asking, and they are both good women 
 without a breath against them, and, what in the state of 
 this property is not without importance, very well to do. 
 Jane gets fifty thousand pounds down on the day of her 
 marriage, and as much more, together with the place, upon 
 old Lady Rose's death ; while Miss Layard if she is not 
 quite to the manner born has the interest in that great 
 colliery and a rather sickly brother. Lastly and this is 
 strange enough, considering how you treat them they 
 admire you, or at least Eliza does, for she told me she 
 thought you the most interesting man she had ever met." 
 
 " Did she indeed ! " ejaculated Morris. "Why, I have 
 only spoken three times to her during the last year." 
 
 " No doubt, my dear boy, that is why she thinks you 
 interesting. To her you are a mine of splendid possi- 
 bilities. But I understand that you don't like either of 
 them." 
 
 " No, not particularly especially Eliza Layard, who 
 isn't a lady, and has a vicious temper nor any young 
 woman whom I have ever met." 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me candidly, Morris, that at 
 your age you detest women ? " 
 
 " I don't say that ; I only say that I never met one to 
 whom I felt much attracted, and that I have met a great 
 many by whom I was repelled." 
 
 " Decidedly, Morris, in you the strain of the ancestral 
 fish is too predominant. It isn't natural ; it really isn't.
 
 THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS \f 
 
 You ought to have been born three centuries ago, when 
 the old monks lived here. You would have made a 
 first-class abbot, and might have been canonised by now. 
 Am I to understand, then, that you absolutely decline to 
 marry ? " 
 
 " No, father; I don't want you to understand anything 
 of the sort. If I could meet a lady whom I liked, and 
 who wouldn't expect too much, and who was foolish 
 enough to wish to take me, of course I should marry 
 her, as you are so bent upon it." 
 
 " Well, Morris, and what sort of a woman would fulfil 
 the conditions, to your notion ? " 
 
 His son looked about him vaguely, as though he ex- 
 pected to find his ideal in some nook of the dim garden. 
 
 " What sort of a woman ? Well, somebody like my 
 cousin Mary, I suppose an easy-going person of that 
 kind, who always looks pleasant and cool." 
 
 Morris did not see him, for he had turned his head 
 away; but at the mention of Mary Person's name his 
 father started, as though someone had pricked him with 
 a pin. But Colonel Monk had not commanded a regi- 
 ment with some success and been a military attach^ for 
 nothing ; having filled diplomatic positions, public and 
 private, in his time, he could keep his countenance, and 
 play his part when he chose. Indeed, did his simpler- 
 minded son but know it, all that evening he had been 
 playing a part. 
 
 " Oh ! that's your style, is it ? " he said. " Well, at 
 your age I should have preferred something a little differ- 
 ent. But there is no accounting for tastes ; and after all, 
 Mary is a beautiful woman, and clever in her own way. 
 By Jove! there's one o'clock striking, and I promised
 
 1 8 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 old Charters that I would always be in bed by half-past 
 eleven. Good night, my boy. By the way, you remem- 
 ber that your uncle Person is coming to Seaview to- 
 morrow from London, and that we are engaged to dine 
 with him at eight. Fancy a man who could build that 
 pretentious monstrosity and call it Seaview ! Well, it 
 will condemn him to the seventh generation ; but in this 
 world one must take people as one finds them, and their 
 houses, too. Mind you lock the garden door when you 
 come in. Good night." 
 
 " Really," thought Colonel Monk to himself as he took 
 off his dress-shoes and, with military precision, set them 
 side by side beneath a chair, " it does seem a little hard 
 on me that I should be responsible for a son who is 
 in love with a damned, unworkable electrical machine. 
 And with his chances with his chances ! Why he might 
 have been a second secretary in the Diplomatic Service 
 by now, or anything else to which interest could help 
 him. And there he sits hour after hour gabbling down 
 a little trumpet and listening for an answer which never 
 comes hour after hour, and month after month, and 
 year after year. Is he a genius, or is he an idiot, or a 
 moral curiosity, or simply useless? I'm hanged if I 
 know, but that's a good idea about Mary; though, of 
 course, there are things against it. Curious that I should 
 never have considered the matter seriously before be- 
 cause of the cousinship, I suppose. Would she have 
 him ? It doesn't seem likely, but you can never know 
 what a woman will or will not do, and as a child she was 
 very fond of Morris. At any rate the situation is des- 
 perate, and if I can, I mean to save the old place, for his 
 sake and our family's, as well as my own."
 
 THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS 19 
 
 He went to the window, and, lifting a corner of the 
 blind, looked out. " There he is, still staring at the sea 
 and the sky, and there I daresay he will be till dawn. I 
 bet he has forgotten all about Mary now, and is thinking 
 of his electrical machine. What a curiosity ! Good 
 heavens ; what a curiosity ! Ah, I wonder what they 
 would have made of him in my old mess five and thirty 
 years ago ? " And quite overcome by this reflection, 
 the Colonel shook his grizzled head, put out the candle, 
 and retired to rest. 
 
 His father was right. The beautiful September dawn 
 was breaking over the placid sea before Morris brushed 
 the night dew from his hair and cloak, and went in by 
 the abbot's door. 
 
 What was he thinking of all the time ? He scarcely 
 knew. One by one, like little clouds in the summer sky, 
 fancies arose in his mind to sail slowly across its depth 
 and vanish upon an inconclusive and shadowy horizon. 
 Of course, he thought about his instruments ; these were 
 never absent from his heart. His instinct flew back to 
 them as an oasis, as an island of rest in the wilderness 
 of his father's thorny and depressing conversation. The 
 instruments were disappointing, it is true, at present; 
 but, at any rate, they did not dwell gloomily upon im- 
 pending ruin or suggest that it was his duty to get mar- 
 ried. They remained silent, distressingly silent indeed. 
 
 Well, as the question of marriage had been started, 
 he might as well face it out; that is, argue it in his 
 mind, reduce it to its principles, follow it to its issues 
 in a reasonable and scientific manner. What were the 
 facts ? His family, which, by tradition, was reported
 
 20 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 to be Danish in its origin, had owned this property for 
 several hundred years, though how they came to own 
 it remained a matter of dispute. Some said that the 
 Abbey and its lands were granted to a man of the name 
 of Monk by Henry VIII., of course for a consideration. 
 Others held, and evidence existed in favour of this view, 
 that on the dissolution of the monastery the abbot of 
 the day, a shrewd man of easy principles, managed to 
 possess himself of the Chapter House and further ex- 
 tensive hereditaments, of course with the connivance of 
 the Commissioners, and, providing himself with a wife, 
 to exchange a spiritual for a temporal dignity. At least 
 this remained certain, that from the time of Elizabeth 
 onwards Morris's forefathers had been settled in the old 
 Abbey house at Monksland; that the first of them about 
 whom they really knew anything was named Monk, and 
 that Monk was still the family name. 
 
 Now they were all dead and done with, and their his- 
 tory, which was undistinguished, does not matter. To 
 come to the present day. His father succeeded to a 
 diminished and encumbered estate ; indeed, had it not 
 been for the fortune of his mother, a Miss Person and 
 one of a middle class and business, but rather wealthy 
 family, the property must have been sold years before. 
 That fortune, however, had long ago been absorbed 
 or so he gathered for his father, a brilliant and fash- 
 ionable army officer, was not the man to stint himself or 
 to nurse a crippled property. Indeed, it was wonderful 
 to Morris how, without any particular change in their 
 style of living, which, if unpretentious, was not cheap, in 
 these bad times they had managed to keep afloat at all. 
 
 Unworldly as Morris might be, he could easily guess
 
 THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS 21 
 
 why his father wished that he should marry, and marry 
 well. It was that he might bolster up the fortunes of a 
 shattered family. Also and this touched him, this 
 commanded his sympathy he was the last of his race. 
 If he died without issue the ancient name of Monk 
 became extinct, a consummation from which his father 
 shrank with something like horror. 
 
 The Colonel was a selfish man Morris could not 
 conceal it, even from himself one who had always 
 thought of his own comfort and convenience first. Yet, 
 either from idleness or pride, to advance these he had 
 never stooped to scheme. Where the welfare of his 
 family was concerned, however, as his son knew, he was 
 a schemer. That desire was the one real and sub- 
 stantial thing in a somewhat superficial, egotistic, and 
 finessing character. 
 
 Morris saw it all as he leaned there upon the railing, 
 staring at the mist-draped sea, more clearly, indeed, than 
 he had ever seen it before. He understood, moreover, 
 what an unsatisfactory son he must be to a man like his 
 father if it had tried, Providence could hardly have 
 furnished him with offspring more unsuitable. The 
 Colonel had wished him to enter the Diplomatic Service, 
 or the Army, or at least to get himself called to the Bar ; 
 but although a really brilliant University career and his 
 family influence would have given him advantages in any 
 of these professions, he had declined them all. So, fol- 
 lowing his natural bent, he became an electrician, and 
 now, abandoning the practical side of that modest call- 
 ing, he was an experimental physicist, full of deep but 
 unremunerative lore, and an unsuccessful inventor. 
 Certainly he owed something to his family, and if his
 
 22 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 father wished that he should marry, well, marry he 
 must, as a matter of duty, if for no other reason. After 
 all, the thing was not pressing; for if it came to the 
 point, what woman was likely to accept him ? All he 
 had done to-night was to settle the general principles in 
 his own mind. When it became necessary if ever 
 he could deal with the details. 
 
 And yet this sort of marriage which was proposed to 
 him, was it not an unholy business ? He cared little for 
 women, having no weakness that way, probably because 
 the energy which other young men give to the pursuit 
 of them was in his case absorbed by intense and brain- 
 exhausting study. Therefore he was not a man who 
 if left to himself, would marry, as so many do, merely 
 in order to be married ; indeed, the idea to him was 
 almost repulsive. Had he been a woman-hater, he 
 might have accepted it more easily, for then to him 
 one would have been as the other. But the trouble was 
 that he knew and felt that a time might come when in 
 his eyes one woman would be different from all others, 
 a being who spoke not to his physical nature only, if at 
 all, but to the core within him. And if that happened, 
 what then ? 
 
 Look, the sun was rising. On the eastern sky of a 
 sudden two golden doors had opened in the canopy of 
 night, and in and out of them seemed to pass glittering, 
 swift-winged things, as souls might tread the Gate of 
 Heaven. Look, too, at the little clouds that in an un- 
 ending stream floated out of gloom travellers pressed 
 onwards by a breath of destiny. They were leaden- 
 hued all of them, black, indeed, at times, until they 
 caught the radiance, and for a while became like the
 
 THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS 23 
 
 pennons of an angel's wings. Then one by one the 
 glory overtook and embraced them, and they melted into 
 it to be seen no more. 
 
 What did the sight suggest to him ? That it was 
 worth while, perhaps, to be a mere drift of cloud, storm- 
 driven and rain-laden in the bitter Night of Life, if the 
 Morning of Deliverance brought such transformation on 
 its wings. That beyond some such gates as these, gates 
 that at times, greatly daring, he longed to tread, lay the 
 answer to many a mystery. Amongst other things, 
 perhaps, there he would learn the meaning of true mar- 
 riage, and why it is denied to most dwellers of the earth. 
 Without a union of the spirit was there indeed any 
 marriage as it should be understood ? And who in this 
 world could hope to find his fellow spirit ? 
 
 See, the sun had risen, the golden gates were shut. 
 He had been dreaming, and was chilled to the bone. 
 Wretchedness, mental and bodily, took hold of him. 
 Well, often enough such is the fate of those who 
 dream ; those who turn from their needful, daily tasks 
 to shape an angel out of this world's clay, trusting to 
 some unknown god to give it life and spirit.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 " POOR PORSON " 
 
 UPON the morning following his conversation with 
 Morris, Colonel Monk spent two hours or more in the 
 library. Painfully did he wrestle there with balance- 
 sheets, adding up bank books ; also other financial 
 documents. 
 
 " Phew ! " he said, when at length the job was done. 
 " It is worse than I thought, a good deal worse. My 
 credit must be excellent, or somebody would have been 
 down upon us before now. Well, I must talk things 
 over with Person. He understands figures, and so he 
 ought, considering that he kept the books in his grand- 
 father's shop." 
 
 Then the Colonel went to lunch less downcast than 
 might have been expected, since he anticipated a not 
 unamusing half-hour with his son. As he knew well, 
 Morris detested business matters and money calcula- 
 tions. Still, reflected his parent, it was only right that 
 he should take his share of the family responsibilities 
 a fact which he fully intended to explain to him. 
 
 But " in vain is the net spread," etc. As Morris passed 
 the door of the library on his way to the old chapel 
 of the Abbey, which now served him as a laboratory, he 
 had seen his father bending over the desk and guessed 
 his occupation. Knowing, therefore, what he must ex- 
 
 24
 
 "POOR PORSON" 25 
 
 pect at lunch, Morris determined to dispense with that 
 meal, and went out, much to the Colonel's disappoint- 
 ment and indignation. " I hate," he explained to his 
 brother-in-law Porson afterwards, "yes, I hate a fellow who 
 won't face disagreeables and shirks his responsibilities." 
 
 Between Monksland and the town of Northwold lay 
 some four miles of cliff, most of which had been portioned 
 off in building lots, for Northwold was what is called a 
 " rising watering place." About half-way between the 
 Abbey and this town stood Mr. Person's mansion. In 
 fact, it was nothing but a dwelling like those about 
 it, presenting the familiar seaside gabled roofs of red 
 tiles, and stucco walls decorated in sham woodwork, 
 with the difference that the house was exceedingly 
 well built and about four times as large as the aver- 
 age villa. 
 
 " Great heavens ! what a place ! " said the Colonel to 
 himself as he halted at the private gateway which 
 opened on to the cliff and surveyed it affronting sea 
 and sky in all its naked horror. " Show me the house 
 and I will show you the man," he went on to himself ; 
 " but, after all, one mustn't judge him too hardly. Poor 
 Porson, he did not arrange his own up-bringing or his 
 ancestors. Hullo ! there he is. 
 
 " John, John, John ! " he shouted at a stout little person 
 clad in a black alpaca coat, a straw hat, and a pair of 
 spectacles, who was engaged in sad contemplation of a 
 bed of dying evergreens. 
 
 At the sound of that well-known voice the little man 
 jumped as though he had trodden on a pin, and turned 
 round slowly, muttering to himself. 
 
 "Gracious! It's him!" an ungrammatical sentence
 
 26 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 which indicated sufficiently how wide a niche in the 
 temple of his mind was filled with the image of his 
 brother-in-law, Colonel Monk. 
 
 John Person was a man of about six or eight and 
 fifty, round-faced, bald, with large blue eyes not unlike 
 those of a china doll, and clean-shaven except for a pair 
 of sandy-coloured mutton-chop whiskers. In expression 
 he was gentle, even timid, and in figure short and stout. 
 At this very moment behind a hundred counters stand 
 a hundred replicas of that good-hearted man and worthy 
 citizen, John Person. Can he be described better or 
 more briefly ? 
 
 "How are you, Colonel ?" he said, hurrying forward. 
 He had never yet dared to call his brother-in-law 
 " Monk," and much less by his Christian name, so he 
 compromised on " Colonel." 
 
 " Pretty well, thank you, considering my years and 
 botherations. And how are you, John ? " 
 
 " Not very grand, not very grand," said the little 
 man ; " my heart has been troubling me, and it was so 
 dreadfully hot in London." 
 
 " Then why didn't you come away ? " 
 
 "Really I don't know. I understood that it had 
 something to do with a party, but I think the fact is 
 that Mary was too lazy to look after the servants while 
 they packed up." 
 
 " Perhaps she had some attraction there," suggested 
 the Colonel, with an anxiety which might have been 
 obvious to a more skilled observer. 
 
 " Attraction ! What do you mean ? " asked Person. 
 
 " Mean, you old goose ? Why, what should I mean ? 
 A young man, of course."
 
 "POOR PORSON" 27 
 
 "Oh! I see. No, I am sure it was nothing of that 
 sort. Mary won't be bothered with young men. She 
 is too lazy ; she just looks over their heads till they get 
 tired and go away. I am sure it was the packing, 
 or, perhaps, the party. But what are you staring at, 
 Colonel ? Is there anything wrong ? " 
 
 " No, no ; only that wonderful window of yours the 
 one filled with bottle glass which always reminds me 
 of a bull's-eye lantern standing on a preserved-beef tin, 
 or the top of a toy lighthouse." 
 
 Person peered at the offending window through his 
 spectacles. 
 
 " Certainly, now you mention it, it does look a little 
 odd from here," he said ; " naked, rather. You said so 
 before, you remember, and I told them to plant the 
 shrubs ; but while I was away they let every one of the 
 poor things die. I will ask my architect, Jenkins, if he 
 can't do anything ; it might be pulled down, perhaps." 
 
 " Better leave it alone," said the Colonel, with a sniff. 
 " If I know anything of Jenkins he'd only put up 
 something worse. I tell you, John, that where bricks 
 and mortar are concerned that man's a moral monster." 
 
 " I know you don't like his style," murmured Person; 
 " but won't you come in, it is so hot out here in the sun ? " 
 
 " Thank you, yes, but let us go to that place you call 
 your den, not to the drawing-room. If you can spare 
 it, I want half-an-hour with you. That's why I came 
 over in the afternoon, before dinner." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," murmured Person again, as he 
 led the way to the " den," but to himself he added: "It's 
 those mortgages, I'll bet. Oh dear ! oh dear ! when 
 shall I see the last of them ? "
 
 28 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Presently they were established in the den, the 
 Colonel very cool and comfortable in Mr. Person's arm- 
 chair, and Person himself perched upon the edge of a 
 new-looking leather sofa in an attitude of pained 
 expectancy. 
 
 " Now I am at your service, Colonel," he said. 
 
 " Oh ! yes ; well, it is just this. I want you, if you 
 will, to look through these figures for me," and he 
 produced and handed to him a portentous document 
 headed " List of Obligations." 
 
 Mr. Porson glanced at it, and instantly his round, 
 simple face became clever and alert. Here he was on 
 his own ground. In five minutes he had mastered the 
 thing. 
 
 " Yes," he said, in a quick voice, " this is quite clear, 
 but there is some mistake in the addition making a dif- 
 ference of ;8/ 3.?. iod. in your favour. Well, where is 
 the schedule of assets ? " 
 
 "The schedule of assets, my dear John? I wish I 
 knew. I have my pension, and there are the Abbey 
 and estates, which, as things are, seem to be mortgaged 
 to their full value. That's about all, I think. Unless 
 unless " and he laughed, " we throw in Morris's 
 patent electrical machine, which won't work." 
 
 " It ought to be reckoned, perhaps," replied Mr. 
 Porson gravely; adding in a kind of burst, with an air 
 of complete conviction : " I believe in Morris's machine, 
 or, at least, I believe in Morris. He has the mak- 
 ings of a great man no, of a great inventor about 
 him." 
 
 " Do you really ? " replied the Colonel, much inter- 
 ested. " That is curious and encouraging ; for, my
 
 POOR PORSON" 29 
 
 dear John, where business matters are concerned, I 
 trust your judgment." 
 
 " But I doubt whether he will make any money out 
 of it," went on Person. " One day the world will bene- 
 fit; probably he will not benefit." 
 
 The Colonel's interest faded. " Possibly, John ; but, if 
 so, perhaps for present purposes we may leave this 
 mysterious discovery out of the question." 
 
 " I think so, I think so ; but what is the point ? " 
 
 " The point is that I seem to be about at the end of 
 my tether, although, as yet, I am glad to say, nobody 
 has actually pressed me, and I have come to you, as a 
 friend and a relative, for advice. What is to be done ? 
 I have sold you all the valuable land, and I am glad 
 to think that you have made a very good thing of it. 
 Some years ago, also, you took over the two heaviest 
 mortgages on the Abbey estate, and I am sorry to 
 say that the interest is considerably in arrear. There 
 remain the floating debts and other charges, amounting 
 in all to about ^7,000, which I have no means of meet- 
 ing, and meanwhile, of course, the place must be kept 
 up. Under these circumstances, John, I ask you as a 
 business man, what is to be done ? " 
 
 " And, as a business man, I say I'm hanged if I know," 
 said Person, with unwonted energy. "All debts, no 
 assets the position is impossible. Unless, indeed, 
 something happens." 
 
 " Quite so. That's it. My only comfort is that 
 something might happen," and he paused. 
 
 Person fidgeted about on the edge of the leather sofa 
 and turned red. In his heart he was wondering whether 
 he dared offer to pay off the debts. This he was quite
 
 30 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 able to do; more, he was willing to do, since to him, 
 good simple man, the welfare of the ancient house of 
 Monk, of which his only sister had married the head, 
 was a far more important thing than parting with a cer- 
 tain number of thousands of pounds. For birth and 
 station, in his plebeian humility, John Porson had a rev- 
 erence which was almost superstitious. Moreover, he 
 had loved his dead sister dearly, and, in his way, he 
 loved her son also. Also he revered his brother-in-law, 
 the polished and splendid-looking Colonel, although it 
 was true that sometimes he writhed beneath his military 
 and aristocratic heel. Particularly, indeed, did he resent, 
 in his secret heart, those continual sarcasms about his 
 taste in architecture. 
 
 Now, although the monetary transactions between 
 them had been many, as luck would have it entirely 
 without his own design they chanced in the main to 
 have turned to his, Person's, advantage. Thus, owing 
 chiefly to his intelligent development of its possibilities, 
 the land which he bought from the Monk estate had 
 increased enormously in value ; so much so, indeed, that, 
 even if he lost all the other sums advanced upon mort- 
 gage, he would still be considerably to the good. There- 
 fore, as it happened, the Colonel was really under no 
 obligations to him. In these circumstances, Mr. Porson 
 did not quite know how a cold-blooded offer of an ad- 
 vance of cash without security in practice a gift 
 would be received. 
 
 " Have you anything definite in your mind ? " he hesi- 
 tated, timidly. 
 
 The Colonel reflected. On his part he was wondering 
 how Porson would receive the suggestion of a substan-
 
 "POOR PORSON" 31 
 
 tial loan. It seemed too much to risk. He was proud, 
 and did not like to lay himself open to the possibility 
 of rebuff. 
 
 " I think not, John. Unless Morris should chance to 
 make a good marriage, which is unlikely, for, as you 
 know, he is an odd fish, I can see nothing before us 
 except ruin. Indeed, at my age, it does not greatly 
 matter, but it seems a pity that the old house should 
 come to an end in such a melancholy and discreditable 
 fashion." 
 
 " A pity ! It is more than a pity," jerked out Person, 
 with a sudden wriggle which caused him to rock up 
 and down upon the stiff springs of the new sofa. 
 
 As he spoke there came a knock at the door, and 
 from the further side of it a slow, rich voice was heard, 
 saying : " May I come in ? " 
 
 " That's Mary," said Mr. Person. " Yes, come in, 
 dear; it's only your uncle." 
 
 The door opened, Mary came in, and, in some curious 
 quiet way, at once her personality seemed to take pos- 
 session of and dominate that shaded room. To begin 
 with, her stature gave an idea of dominion, for, without 
 being at all coarse, she was tall and full in frame. The 
 face also was somewhat massive, with a rounded chin 
 and large, blue eyes that had a trick of looking half 
 asleep, and above a low, broad forehead grew her wav- 
 ing, golden hair, parted simply in the middle after the 
 old Greek fashion. She wore a white dress, with a sil- 
 ver girdle that set off the beautiful outlines of her figure 
 to great advantage, and with her a perfume seemed to 
 pass, perhaps from the roses on her bosom. 
 
 " A beautiful woman," thought the Colonel to himself,
 
 32 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 as she came in, and he was no mean or inexperienced 
 judge. "A beautiful woman, but a regular lotus-eater." 
 
 " How do you do, Uncle Richard ? " said Mary, paus- 
 ing about six feet away and holding out her hand. " I 
 heard you scolding my poor dad about his bow-window. 
 In fact, you woke me up ; and, do you know, you used 
 exactly the same words as you did at your visit after we 
 came down from London last year." 
 
 " Bless me, my dear," said the Colonel, struggling to 
 his feet, and kissing his niece upon the forehead, " what 
 a memory you have got ! It will get you into trouble 
 some day." 
 
 " I daresay me, or somebody else. But history re- 
 peated itself, uncle, that is all. The same sleepy Me 
 in a lounge-chair, the same hot day, the same blue-bottle, 
 and the same You scolding the same Daddy about the 
 same window. Though what on earth dad's window 
 can matter to anyone except himself, I can't under- 
 stand." 
 
 " I daresay not, my dear ; I daresay not. We can 
 none of us know everything not even latter day 
 young ladies but I suggest that a few hours with 
 Fergussen's ' Handbook of Architecture ' might en- 
 lighten you on the point." 
 
 Mary reflected, but the only repartee that she could 
 conjure at the moment was something about ancient 
 lights which did not seem appropriate. Therefore, as 
 she thought that she had done enough for honour, and 
 to remind her awe-inspiring relative that he could not 
 suppress her, suddenly she changed the subject. 
 
 "You are looking very well, uncle," she said, survey- 
 ing him calmly ; " and younger than you did last year.
 
 "POOR PORSON" 33 
 
 How is my cousin Morris? Will the aerophone talk 
 yet?" 
 
 " Be careful," said the Colonel, gallantly. " If even 
 my grey hairs can provoke a compliment, what homage 
 is sufficient for a Sleeping Beauty ? As for Morris, he 
 is, I believe, much as usual ; at least he stood this morn- 
 ing till daybreak staring at the sea. I understand, how- 
 ever if he doesn't forget to come that you are to 
 have the pleasure of seeing him this evening, when you 
 will be able to judge for yourself." 
 
 "Now, don't be sarcastic about Morris, uncle; I'd 
 rather you went on abusing dad's window." 
 
 "Certainly not, my dear, if it displeases you. But 
 may I ask why he is to be considered sacred ? " 
 
 " Why ? " she answered, and a genuine note crept 
 into her bantering voice. " Because he is one of the few 
 men worth anything whom I ever chanced to meet 
 except dad there and " 
 
 "JSpare me," cut in the Colonel, with admirable skill, for 
 well he knew that his name was not upon the lady's lips. 
 " But would it be impertinent to inquire what it is that 
 constitutes Morris's preeminent excellence in your eyes ? " 
 
 " Of course not ; only it is three things, not one. 
 First, he works harder than any man I know, and I 
 think men who work adorable, because I am so lazy 
 myself. Secondly, he thinks a great deal, and very 
 few people do that to any purpose. Thirdly, I never 
 feel inclined to go to sleep when he takes me in to din- 
 ner. Oh ! you may laugh if you like, but ask dad what 
 happened to me last month with that wretched old mem- 
 ber of the Government, and before the sweets, too ! " 
 
 " Please, please," put in Mr. Person, turning pink
 
 34 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 under pressure of some painful recollection. " If you 
 have finished sparring with your uncle, isn't there any 
 tea, Mary?" 
 
 "I believe so," she said, relapsing into a state of 
 bland indifference. " I'll go and see. If I don't come 
 back, you'll know it is there," and Mary passed through 
 the door with that indolent, graceful walk which no one 
 could mistake who once had seen her. 
 
 Both her father and her uncle looked after her with 
 admiration. Mr. Person admired her because the man 
 or woman who dared to meet that domestic tyrant his 
 brother-in-law in single combat, and could issue un- 
 conquered from the doubtful fray, was indeed worthy 
 to be honoured. Colonel Monk for his part hastened 
 to do homage to a very pretty and charming young lady, 
 one, morever, who was not in the least afraid of him. 
 
 Mary had gone, and the air from the offending 
 window, which was so constructed as to let in a maxi- 
 mum of draught, banged the door behind her. The 
 two men looked at each other. A thought was in the 
 mind of each ; but the Colonel, trained by long experi- 
 ence, and wise in his generation, waited for Mr. Person 
 to speak. Many and many a time in the after days 
 did he find reason to congratulate himself upon this 
 superb reticence for there are occasions when dis- 
 cretion can mount almost to the height of genius. 
 Under their relative circumstances, if it had been he 
 who first suggested this alliance, he and his family 
 must have remained at the gravest disadvantage, and 
 as for stipulations, well, he could have made none. 
 But as it chanced it was from poor Person's lips that 
 the suggestion came.
 
 "POOR PORSON" 35 
 
 Mr. Person cleared his throat once, twice, thrice. 
 At the third rasp, the Colonel became very attentive. 
 He remembered that his brother-in-law had done exactly 
 the same thing at the very apex of a long-departed 
 crisis ; indeed, just before he offered spontaneously to 
 take over the mortgages on the Abbey estate. 
 
 " You were talking, Colonel," he began, " when Mary 
 came in," and he paused. 
 
 " I daresay," replied the Colonel indifferently, fixing 
 a contemptuous glance upon some stone mullions of 
 atrocious design. 
 
 " About Morris marrying." 
 
 " Oh, yes, so I was ! Well ? " 
 
 "Well she seems to like him. I know she does 
 indeed. She never talks of any other young man." 
 
 " She ? Who ? " 
 
 " My daughter, Mary ; and so why shouldn't they 
 you know ? " 
 
 " Really, John, I must ask you to be a little more 
 explicit. It's no good your addressing me in your busi- 
 ness ciphers." 
 
 " Well I mean why shouldn't he marry her ? 
 Morris marry Mary ! Is that plain enough ? " he asked 
 in desperation. 
 
 For a moment a mist gathered before the Colonel's 
 eyes. Here was salvation indeed, if only it could be 
 brought about. Oh ! if only it could be brought about 
 
 But the dark eyes never changed, nor did a muscle 
 move upon that pale, commanding countenance. 
 
 " Morris marry Mary," he repeated, dwelling on the 
 alliterative words as though to convince himself that 
 he had heard them aright. "That is a very strange
 
 36 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 proposition, my dear John, and sudden, too. Why, 
 they are first cousins, and for that reason, I suppose, 
 the thing never occurred to me till last night," he 
 added to himself. 
 
 " Yes, I know, Colonel ; but I am not certain that 
 this first cousin business isn't a bit exaggerated. The 
 returns of the asylums seem to show it, and I know my 
 doctor, Sir Henry Andrews, says it's nonsense. You'll 
 admit that he is an authority. Also, it happened in my 
 own family, my father and mother were cousins, and 
 we are none the worse." 
 
 On another occasion the Colonel might have been 
 inclined to comment on this statement of course, most 
 politely. Now, however, he let it pass. 
 
 "Well, John," he said, "putting aside the cousinship, 
 let me hear what your idea is of the advantages of such 
 a union, should the parties concerned chance to consider 
 it suitable." 
 
 " Quite so, quite so, that's business," said Mr. Porson, 
 brightening up at once. " From my point of view, these 
 would be the advantages. As you know, Colonel, so 
 far as I am concerned my origin, for the time I have 
 been able to trace it that's four generations from old 
 John Porson, the Quaker sugar merchant, who came 
 from nobody knows where although honest, is humble, 
 and until my father's day all in the line of retail trade. 
 But then my dear wife came in. She was a governess 
 when I married her, as you may have heard, and of a 
 very good Scotch family, one of the Camerons, so Mary 
 isn't all of our cut any more," he added with a little 
 smile, "than Morris is all of yours. Still for her to 
 marry a Monk would be a lift up a considerable lift
 
 "POOR PORSON" 37 
 
 up, and looked at from a business point of view, worth 
 a deal of money. 
 
 " Also, I like my nephew Morris, and I am sure that 
 Mary likes him, and I'd wish the two of them to inherit 
 what I have got. They wouldn't have very long to wait 
 for it, Colonel, for those doctors may say what they 
 will, but I tell you," he added, pathetically, tapping 
 himself over the heart " though don't you mention it 
 to Mary I know better. Oh ! yes, I know better. 
 That's about all, except, of course, that I should wish to 
 see her settled before I'm gone. A man dies happier, 
 you understand, if he is certain whom his only child is 
 going to marry ; for when he is dead I suppose that he 
 will know nothing of what happens to her. Or, per- 
 haps," he added, as though by an afterthought, " he 
 may know too much, and not be able to help; which 
 would be painful, very painful." 
 
 " Don't get into those speculations, John," said the 
 Colonel, waving his hand. " They are unpleasant, and 
 lead nowhere sufficient to the day is the evil thereof." 
 
 " Quite so, quite so. Life is a queer game of blind- 
 man's buff, isn't it ; played in a mist on a mountain top, 
 and the players keep dropping over the precipices. 
 But nobody heeds, because there are always plenty 
 more, and the game goes on forever. Well, that's my 
 side of the case. Do you wish me to put yours ? " 
 
 " I should like to hear your view of it." 
 
 " Very good, it is this. Here's a nice girl, no one can 
 deny that, and a nice man, although he's odd you will 
 admit as much. He's got name, and he will have fame, 
 or I am much mistaken. But, as it chances, through no 
 fault of his, he wants money, or will want it, for without
 
 38 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 money the old place can't go on, and without a wife the 
 old race can't go on. Now, Mary will have lots of money, 
 for, to tell the truth, it keeps piling up until I am sick of 
 it. I've been lucky in that way, Colonel, because I 
 don't much care about it, I suppose. I don't think that 
 I ever yet made a really bad investment. Just look. 
 Two years ago, to oblige an old friend who was in the 
 shop with me when I was young, I put 5,000 into an 
 Australian mine, never thinking to see it again. Yes- 
 terday I sold that stock for ,50,000." 
 
 " Fifty thousand pounds ! " ejaculated the Colonel, 
 astonished into admiration. 
 
 " Yes, or to be accurate, .49,375 $s. iod., and that's 
 where the jar comes in I don't care. I never thought 
 of it again since I got the broker's note till this minute. 
 I have been thinking all day about my heart, which is 
 uneasy, and about what will happen to Mary when I 
 am gone. What's the good of this dirty money to a 
 dying man ? I'd give it all to have my wife and the 
 boy I lost back for a year or two ; yes, I would go into a 
 shop again and sell sugar like my grandfather, and live on 
 the profits from the till and the counter. There's Mary 
 calling. We must tell a fib, we must say that we thought 
 she was to come to fetch us ; don't you forget. Well, 
 there it is, perhaps you'll think it over at your leisure." 
 
 "Yes, John," replied the Colonel, solemnly; "cer- 
 tainly I will think it over. Of course, there are pros 
 and cons, but, on the whole, speaking offhand, I don't 
 see why the young people should not make a match. 
 Also you have always been a good relative, and, what is 
 better, a good friend to me, so, of course, if possible I 
 should like to fall in with your wishes."
 
 "POOR PORSON" 39 
 
 Mr. Person, who was advancing towards the door, 
 wheeled round quickly. 
 
 "Thank you, Colonel," he said, " I appreciate your sen- 
 timents ; but don't you make any mistake. It isn't my 
 wishes that have to be fallen in with or your wishes. 
 It's the wishes of your son, Morris, and my daughter, 
 Mary. If they are agreeable I'd like it well; if not, 
 all the money in the world, nor all the families in the 
 world, wouldn't make me have anything to do with the 
 job, or you either. Whatever our failings, we are hon- 
 est men both of us, who would not sell our flesh and 
 blood for such trash as that."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 MARY PREACHES AND THE COLONEL PREVAILS 
 
 A FORTNIGHT had gone by, and during this time 
 Morris was a frequent visitor at Seaview. Also his 
 Cousin Mary had come over twice or thrice to lunch, 
 with her father or without him. Once, indeed, she had 
 stopped all the afternoon, spending most of it in the 
 workshop with Morris. This workshop, it may be 
 remembered, was the old chapel of the Abbey, a very 
 beautiful and still perfect building, finished in early 
 Tudor times, in which, by good fortune, the rich stained 
 glass of the east window still remained. It made a 
 noble and spacious laboratory, with its wide nave and 
 lovely roof of chestnut wood, whereof the corbels were 
 seraphs, white-robed and golden-winged. 
 
 " Are you not afraid to desecrate such a place with 
 your horrid vices I mean the iron things and fur- 
 nace and litter ? " asked Mary. She had sunk down 
 upon an anvil, on which lay a newspaper, the first seat 
 that she could find, and thence surveyed the strange, 
 incongruous scene. 
 
 " Well, if you ask, I don't like it," answered Morris. 
 " But there is no other place that I can have, for my 
 father is afraid of the forge in the house, and I can't 
 afford to build a workshop outside." 
 
 " It ought to be restored," said Mary, "with a beauti- 
 ful organ in a carved case and a lovely alabaster altar 
 
 40
 
 MARY PREACHES AND THE COLONEL PREVAILS 41 
 
 and one of those perpetual lamps of silver the French 
 call them ' veilleuses,' don't they ? and the Stations of 
 the Cross in carved oak, and all the rest of it. " 
 
 Mary, it may be explained, had a tendency to admire 
 the outward adornments of ritualism if not its doctrines. 
 
 "Quite so," answered Morris, smiling. "When I 
 have from five to seven thousand to spare I will set 
 about the job, and hire a high-church chaplain with a 
 fine voice to come and say Mass for your benefit. By 
 the way, would you like a confessional also ? You 
 omitted it from the list." 
 
 " I think not. Besides, what on earth should I confess, 
 except being always late for prayers through oversleep- 
 ing myself in the morning, and general uselessness ? " 
 
 " Oh, I daresay you might find something if you 
 tried," suggested Morris. 
 
 " Speak for yourself, please, Morris. To begin with 
 your own account, there is the crime of sacrilege in 
 using a chapel as a workshop. Look, those are all 
 tombstones of abbots and other holy people, and under 
 each tombstone one of them is asleep. Yet there you 
 are, using strong language and whistling and making a 
 horrible noise with hammers just above their heads. I 
 wonder they don't haunt you ; I would if I were they." 
 
 "Perhaps they do," said Morris, "only I don't see 
 them." 
 
 " Then they can't be there." 
 
 " Why not ? Because things are invisible and intangi- 
 ble it does not follow that they don't exist, as I ought 
 to know as much as anyone." 
 
 " Of course ; but I am sure that if there were anything 
 of that sort about you would soon be in touch with it.
 
 42 STELLA FREGEL1US 
 
 With me it is different; I could sleep sweetly with 
 ghosts sitting on my bed in rows." 
 
 "Why do you say that about me, I mean? " asked 
 Morris, in a more earnest voice. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. Go and look at your own eyes 
 in the glass but I daresay you do that often enough. 
 Look here, Morris, you think me very silly almost 
 foolish don't you ? " 
 
 " I never thought anything of the sort. As a matter 
 of fact, if you want to know, I think you a young woman 
 rather more idle than most, and with a perfect passion 
 for burying your talent in very white napkins." 
 
 "Well, it all comes to the same thing, for there 
 isn't much difference between fool-born and fool-manu- 
 factured. Sometimes I wake up, however, and have 
 moments of wisdom as when I made you hear that 
 thing, you know, thereby proving that it is all right, 
 only useless haven't I ? " 
 
 " I daresay ; but come to the point." 
 
 " Don't be in a hurry. It is rather hard to express 
 myself. What I mean is that you had better give up 
 staring." 
 
 " Staring ? I never stared at you or anyone else, in 
 my life ! " 
 
 " Stupid Morris ! By staring I mean star-gazing, and 
 by star-gazing I mean trying to get away from the earth 
 in your mind, you know." 
 
 Morris ran his fingers through his untidy hair and 
 opened his lips to answer. 
 
 " Don't contradict me," she interrupted in a full steady 
 voice. " That's what you are thinking of half the day, 
 and dreaming about all the night."
 
 MARY PREACHES AND THE COLONEL PREVAILS 43 
 
 " What's that ? " he ejaculated. 
 
 " I don't know," she answered, with a sudden access 
 of indifference. " Do you know yourself ? " 
 
 " I am waiting for instruction," said Morris, sarcasti- 
 cally. 
 
 " All right, then I'll try. I mean that you are not 
 satisfied with this world and those of us who live here. 
 You keep trying to fashion another oh ! yes, you have 
 been at it from a boy, you see I have got a good mem- 
 ory, I remember all your ' vision stories ' and then you 
 try to imagine its inhabitants." 
 
 " Well," said Morris, with the sullen air of a convicted 
 criminal, " without admitting one word of this nonsense, 
 what if I do ? " 
 
 " Only that you had better look out that you don't find 
 whatever it is you seek. It's a horrible mistake to be so 
 spiritual, at least in that kind of way. You should eat 
 and drink, and sleep ten hours as I do, and not go crav- 
 ing for vision till you can see, and praying for power 
 until you can create." 
 
 "See! Create! Who? What?" 
 
 " The inhabitant, or inhabitants. Just think, you may 
 have been building her up all this time, imagination by 
 imagination and thought by thought. Then her day 
 might come, and all that you have put out piecemeal will 
 return at once. Yes, she may appear, and take you, 
 and possess you, and lead you " 
 
 " She ? Why she ? and where ? " 
 
 " To the devil, I imagine," answered Mary composedly, 
 " and as you are a man one can guess the guide's sex. It's 
 getting dark, let us go out. This is such a creepy place 
 in the dark that it actually makes me understand what
 
 44 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 people mean by nerves. And, Morris, of course you 
 understand that I have only been talking rubbish. I 
 always liked inventing fairy tales ; you taught me ; 
 only this one is too grown up disagreeable. What 
 I really mean is that I do think it might be a good thing 
 if you wouldn't live quite so much alone, and would go 
 out a bit more. You are getting quite an odd look on 
 your face; you are indeed, not like other men at all. 
 I believe that it comes from your worrying about this 
 wretched invention until you are half crazy over the 
 thing. Any change there ? " 
 
 He shook his head. " No, I can't find the right alloy 
 not one that can be relied upon. I begin to doubt 
 whether it exists." 
 
 " Why don't you give it up for a while at any rate ? " 
 
 " I have. I made a novel kind of electrical hand-saw 
 this spring, and sold the patent for ;ioo and a royalty. 
 There's commercial success for you, and now I am at 
 work on a new lamp of which I have the idea." 
 
 " I am uncommonly glad to hear it," said Mary with 
 energy. "And, I say, Morris, you are not offended 
 at my silly parables, are you ? You know what I 
 mean." 
 
 " Not a bit. I think it is very kind of you to worry 
 your head about an impossible fellow like me. And 
 look here, Mary, I have done some dreaming in my 
 time, it is true, for so far the world has been a place of 
 tribulation to me, and it is sick hearts that dream. But 
 I mean to give it up, for I know as well as you do that 
 there is only one end to all these systems of mysticism." 
 Mary looked up. 
 
 " I mean," he went on, correcting himself, " to the mad
 
 MARY PREACHES AND THE COLONEL PREVAILS 45 
 
 attempt unduly and prematurely to cultivate our spiritual 
 natures that we may live to and for them, and not to and 
 for our natural bodies." 
 
 " Exactly my argument, put into long words," said 
 Mary. "There will be plenty of time for that when 
 we get down among those old gentlemen yonder a 
 year or two hence, you know. Meanwhile, let us take 
 the world as we find it. It isn't a bad place, after all, 
 at times, and there are several things worth doing for 
 those who are not too lazy. 
 
 "Good-bye, I must be off; my bicycle is there 
 against the railings. Oh, how I hate that machine! 
 Now, listen, Morris ; do you want to do something 
 really useful, and earn the blessings of an affectionate 
 relative ? Then invent a really reliable electrical bike, 
 that would look nice and do all the work, so that I could 
 sit on it comfortably and get to a place without my legs 
 aching as though I had broken them, and a red face, 
 and no breath left in my body." 
 
 "I will think about it," he said; "indeed, I have 
 thought of it already but the accumulators are the 
 trouble." 
 
 " Then go on thinking, there's an angel ; think hard 
 and continually until you evolve that blessed instrument 
 of progression. I say, I haven't a lamp." 
 
 " I'll lend you mine," suggested Morris. 
 
 "No; other people's lamps always go out with me, 
 and so do my own, for that matter. I'll risk it; I know 
 the policeman, and if we meet I will argue with him. 
 Good-bye; don't forget we are coming to dinner to- 
 morrow night. It's a party, isn't it ? " 
 
 " I believe so."
 
 46 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 "What a bore, I must unpack my London dresses. 
 Well, good-bye again." 
 
 " Good-bye, dear," answered Morris, and she was gone. 
 
 " ' Dear,' " thought Mary to herself ; " he hasn't called 
 me that since I was sixteen. I wonder why he does 
 it now ? Because I have been scolding him, I suppose ; 
 that generally makes men affectionate." 
 
 For a while she glided forward through the grey 
 twilight, and then began to think again, muttering to 
 herself : 
 
 "You idiot, Mary, why should you be pleased be- 
 cause he called you ' dear ' ? He doesn't really care two- 
 pence about you ; his blood goes no quicker when you 
 pass by and no slower when you stay away. Why do 
 you bother about him? and what made you talk all that 
 stuff this afternoon? Because you think he is in a 
 queer way, and that if he goes on giving himself up 
 to his fancies he will become mad yes, mad because 
 
 Oh ! what's the use of making excuses because 
 
 you are fond of him, and have always been fond of him 
 from a child, and can't help it. What a fate ! To be 
 fond of a man who hasn't the heart to care for you or 
 for any other woman. Perhaps, however, that's only 
 because he hasn't found the right one, as he might do 
 at any time, and then " 
 
 "Where are you going to, and where's your light?" 
 shouted a hoarse voice from the pathway on which she 
 was unlawfully riding. 
 
 "My good man, I wish I knew," answered Mary, 
 blandly. 
 
 Morris, for whom the day never seemed long enough,
 
 MARY PREACHES AND THE COLONEL PREVAILS 47 
 
 was a person who breakfasted punctually at half-past 
 eight, whereas Colonel Monk, to whom at any rate 
 at Monksland the day was often too long, generally 
 breakfasted at ten. To his astonishment, however, on 
 entering the dining-room upon the morrow of his inter- 
 view in the workshop with Mary, he found his father 
 seated at the head of the table. 
 
 " This means a ' few words ' with me about something 
 disagreeable," thought Morris to himself as he dabbed 
 viciously at an evasive sausage. He was not fond of 
 these domestic conversations. Nor was he in the least 
 reassured by his father's airy and informed comments 
 upon the contents of the " Globe," which always arrived 
 by post, and the marvel of its daily "turnover" article, 
 whereof the perpetual variety throughout the decades 
 constituted, the Colonel was wont to say, the eighth 
 wonder of the world. Instinct, instructed by experience, 
 assured him that these were but the first moves in the 
 game. 
 
 Towards the end of the meal he attempted retreat, 
 pretending that he wanted to fetch something, but the 
 Colonel, who was watching him over the top of the 
 pink page of the " Globe." intervened promptly. 
 
 " If you have a few minutes to spare, my dear boy, 
 I should like to have a chat with you," he said. 
 
 " Certainly, father," answered the dutiful Morris ; " I 
 am at your service." 
 
 " Very good ; then I will light my cigar, and we might 
 take a stroll on the beach, that is, after I have seen the 
 cook about the dinner to-night. Perhaps I shall find 
 you presently by the steps." 
 
 " I will wait for you there," answered Morris. And
 
 48 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 wait he did, for a considerable while, for the interview 
 with the cook proved lengthy. Moreover, the Colonel 
 was not a punctual person, or one who set an undue 
 value upon his own or other people's time. At length, 
 just as Morris was growing weary of the pristine but 
 enticing occupation of making ducks and drakes with 
 flat pebbles, his father appeared. After " salutations," 
 as they say in the East, he wasted ten more minutes in 
 abusing the cook, ending up with a direct appeal for his 
 son's estimate of her capacities. 
 
 " She might be better and she might be worse," 
 answered Morris, judicially. 
 
 " Quite so," replied the Colonel, drily ; " the remark is 
 sound and applies to most things. At present, however, 
 I think that she is worse ; also I hate the sight of her fat 
 red face. But bother the cook, why do you think so 
 much about her ; I have something else to say." 
 
 " I don't think," said Morris. " She doesn't excite me 
 one way or the other, except when she is late with my 
 breakfast." 
 
 Then, as he expected, after the cook came the 
 crisis. 
 
 " You will remember, my dear boy," began the Colonel, 
 affectionately, " a little talk we had a while ago." 
 
 " Which one, father ? " 
 
 "The last of any importance, I believe. I refer to 
 the occasion when you stopped out all night contem- 
 plating the sea; an incident which impressed it upon 
 my memory." 
 
 Morris looked at him. Why was the old gentleman 
 so inconveniently observant ? 
 
 " And doubtless you remember the subject ? "
 
 MARY PREACHES AND THE COLONEL PREVAILS 49 
 
 "There were a good many subjects, father; they 
 ranged from mortgages to matrimony." 
 
 " Quite so, to matrimony. Well, have you thought 
 any more about it ? " 
 
 " Not particularly, father. Why should I ? " 
 
 " Confound it, Morris," exclaimed the Colonel, losing 
 patience ; " don't chop logic like a petty sessions lawyer. 
 Let's come to the point." 
 
 " That is my desire," answered Morris ; and quite 
 clearly there rose up before him an inconsequent picture 
 of his mother teaching him the Catechism many, many 
 years ago. Thereat, as was customary with his mind 
 when any memory of her touched it, his temper softened 
 like iron beneath the influence of fire. 
 
 "Very good, then what do you think of Mary as a 
 wife ? " 
 
 " How should I know under the circumstances ? " 
 
 The Colonel fumed, and Morris added, " I beg your 
 pardon, I understand what you mean." 
 
 Then his father came to the charge. 
 
 " To be brief, will you marry her ? " 
 
 " Will she marry me ? " asked Morris. " Isn't she too 
 sensible ? " 
 
 His father's eye twinkled, but he restrained himself. 
 This, he felt, was not an occasion upon which to indulge 
 his powers of sarcasm. 
 
 " Upon my word, if you want my opinion, I believe 
 she will ; but you have to ask her first. Look here, my 
 boy, be advised by me, and do it as soon as possible. 
 The notion is rather new to me, I admit ; but, taking her 
 all round, where would you find a better woman ? You 
 and I don't always agree about things; we are of a
 
 50 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 different generation, and look at the world from different 
 standpoints. But I think that at the bottom we respect 
 each other, and I am sure," he added with a touch of 
 restrained dignity, "that we are naturally and properly 
 attached to each other. Under these circumstances, and 
 taking everything else into consideration, I am convinced 
 also that you will give weight to my advice. I assure 
 you that I do not offer it lightly. It is that you should 
 marry your cousin Mary." 
 
 "There is her side of the case to be considered," 
 suggested Morris. 
 
 " Doubtless, and she is a very shrewd and sensible 
 young woman under all her ' dolce far niente ' air, who 
 is quite capable of consideration." 
 
 " I am not worthy of her," his son broke in passion- 
 ately. 
 
 " That is for her to decide. I ask you to give her an 
 opportunity of expressing an opinion." 
 
 Morris looked at the sea and sky, then he looked at 
 his father standing before him in an attitude that was 
 now almost suppliant, with head bowed, hands clasped, 
 and on his clear-cut face an air of real sincerity. What 
 right had he to resist this appeal ? He was heart-whole, 
 without any kind of complication, and for his cousin 
 Mary he had true affection and respect. Moreover, 
 they had been brought up together. She understood 
 him, and in the midst of so much that was uncertain 
 and bewildering she seemed something genuine and 
 solid, something to which a man could cling. It may 
 not have been a right spirit in which to approach this 
 question of marriage, but in the case of a man like 
 Morris, who was driven forward by no passion, by no
 
 MARY PREACHES AND THE COLONEL PREVAILS 5 1 
 
 scheme even of personal advancement, this substitution 
 of reason for impulse and instinct was perhaps natural. 
 
 " Very well, I will," he answered ; " but if she is wise, 
 she won't." 
 
 His father turned his head away and sighed softly, 
 and that sigh seemed to lift a ton's weight off his heart. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," he answered simply, "the rest 
 must settle itself. By the way, if you are going up to 
 the house, tell the cook that I have changed my mind, 
 we will have the soles fried with lemon ; she always 
 makes a mess of them 'au maitre d'hotel.' "
 
 CHAPTER V 
 A PROPOSAL AND A PROMISE 
 
 ALTHOUGH it consisted of but a dozen people, the 
 dinner-party at the Abbey that night was something of 
 a function. To begin with, the old refectory, with its 
 stone columns and arches still standing as they were in 
 the pre-Reformation days, lit with cunningly-arranged 
 and shaded electric lights designed and set up by 
 Morris, was an absolutely ideal place in which to dine. 
 Then, although the Monk family were impoverished, 
 they still retained the store of plate accumulated by 
 past generations. Much of this silver was old and 
 very beautiful, and when set out upon the great side- 
 boards produced an effect well suited to that chamber 
 and its accessories. The company also was pleasant 
 and presentable. There were the local baronet and his 
 wife ; the two beauties of the neighbourhood, Miss Jane 
 Rose and Miss Eliza Layard, with their respective 
 belongings ; the clergyman of the parish, a Mr. Tomley, 
 who was leaving the county for the north of England on 
 account of his wife's health; and a clever and rising 
 young doctor from the county town. These, with Mr. 
 Person and his daughter, made up the number who upon 
 this particular night with every intention of enjoying 
 themselves, sat down to that rather rare entertainment 
 in Monksland, a dinner-party. 
 
 52
 
 A PROPOSAL AND A PROMISE 53 
 
 Colonel Monk had himself very carefully placed the 
 guests. As a result, Morris, to whose lot it had fallen 
 to take in the wealthy Miss Layard, a young lady 
 of handsome but somewhat ill-tempered countenance, 
 found himself at the foot of the oblong table with his 
 partner on one side and his cousin on the other. Mary, 
 who was conducted to her seat by Mr. Layard, the deli- 
 cate brother, an insignificant, pallid-looking specimen of 
 humanity, for reasons of her own, not unconnected per- 
 haps with the expected presence of the Misses Layard 
 and Rose, had determined to look and dress her best 
 that night. She wore a robe of some rich white silk, 
 tight fitting and cut rather low, and upon her neck 
 a single row of magnificent diamonds. The general 
 effect of her sheeny dress, snow-like skin, and golden, 
 waving hair, as she glided into the shaded room, sug- 
 gested to Morris's mind a great white lily floating down 
 the quiet water of some dark stream, and, when presently 
 the light fell on her, a vision of a silver, mist-shaded star 
 lying low upon the ocean at the break of dawn. Later, 
 after she became acquainted with these poetical imagin- 
 ings, Mary congratulated herself and her maid very 
 warmly on the fact that she had actually summoned 
 sufficient energy to telegraph to town for this particular 
 dress. 
 
 Of the other ladies present, Miss Layard was arrayed 
 in a hot-looking red garment, which she imagined would 
 suit her dark eyes and complexion. Miss Rose, on the 
 contrary, had come out in the virginal style of muslin 
 and blue bows, whereof the effect, unhappily, was some- 
 what marred by a fiery complexion, acquired as the re- 
 sult of three days' violent play at a tennis tournament.
 
 54 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 To this unfortunate circumstance Miss Layard, who had 
 her own views of Miss Rose, was not slow in calling 
 attention. 
 
 " What has happened to poor Jane? " she said, address- 
 ing Mary. " She looks as though she had been red- 
 ochred down to her shoulders." 
 
 "Who is poor Jane?" asked that young lady languidly. 
 " Oh ! you mean Miss Rose. I know, she has been play- 
 ing in that tennis tournament at what's the name of 
 the place ? Dad would drive me there this afternoon, 
 and it made me quite hot to look at her, jumping and 
 running and hitting for hour after hour. But she's 
 awfully good at it ; she won the prize. Don't you envy 
 anybody who can win a prize at a tennis tournament, 
 Miss Layard ? " 
 
 " No," she answered sharply, for Miss Layard did not 
 shine at tennis. " I dislike women who go about what 
 my brother calls ' pot-hunting ' just as if they were 
 professionals." 
 
 " Oh, do you ? I admire them. It must be so nice to 
 be able to do anything well, even if it's only lawn 
 tennis. It's the poor failures like myself for whom 
 I am so sorry." 
 
 "I don't admire anybody who can come out to a 
 dinner party with a head and neck like that," retorted 
 Eliza. 
 
 " Why not ? You can't burn, and that should make 
 you more charitable. And I tie myself up in veils and 
 umbrellas, which is absurd. Besides, what does it 
 matter ? You see, it is different with most of us ; Miss 
 Rose is so good-looking that she can afford herself 
 these little luxuries."
 
 A PROPOSAL AND A PROMISE 55 
 
 " That is a matter of opinion," replied Miss Layard. 
 
 " Oh ! I don't think so ; at least, the opinion is all one 
 way. Don't you think Miss Rose beautiful, Mr. Lay- 
 ard ? " she said, turning to her companion. 
 
 " Ripping," said that gentleman, with emphasis. " But 
 I wish she wouldn't beat one at tennis ; it is an insult to 
 the stronger sex." 
 
 Mary looked at him reflectively. His sister looked 
 at him also. 
 
 "And I am sure you think her beautiful, don't you, 
 Morris ? " went on the imperturbable Mary. 
 
 " Certainly, of course ; lovely," he replied, with a 
 vacuous stare at the elderly wife of the baronet. 
 
 "There, Miss Layard, now you collect the opinions 
 of the gentlemen all along your side." And Mary 
 turned away, ostensibly to talk to her cavalier; but 
 really to find out what could possibly interest Morris so 
 deeply in the person or conversation of Lady Jones. 
 
 Lady Jones was talking across the table to Mr. Tom- 
 ley, the departing rector, a benevolent-looking person, 
 with a broad forehead adorned like that of Father Time 
 by a single lock of snowy hair. 
 
 "And so you are really going to the far coast of 
 Northumberland, Mr. Tomley, to exchange livings with 
 the gentleman with the odd name ? How brave of you ! " 
 
 Mr. Tomley smiled assent, adding: "You can imagine 
 what a blow it is to me, Lady Jones, to separate myself 
 from my dear parishioners and friends " here he 
 eyed the Colonel, with whom he had waged a continual 
 war during his five years of residence in the parish, 
 and added : "But we must all give way to the cause of 
 duty and the necessities of health. Mrs. Tomley says
 
 56 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 that this part of the country does not agree with her, 
 and is quite convinced that unless she is taken back 
 to her native Northumberland air the worst may be 
 expected." 
 
 " I fancy that it has arrived in that poor man's case," 
 thought Mary to herself. Lady Jones, who also knew 
 Mrs. Tomley and the power of her tongue, nodded her 
 head sympathetically and said : 
 
 " Of course, of course. A wife's health must be the 
 first consideration of every good man. But isn't it 
 rather lonely up there, Mr. Tomley ? " 
 
 " Lonely, Lady Jones ? " the clergyman replied with 
 energy, and shaking his white lock. " I assure you that 
 the place is a howling desert ; a great moor behind, and 
 the great sea in front, and some rocks and the church 
 between the two. That's about all, but my wife likes it 
 because she used to stay at the rectory when she was a 
 little girl. Her uncle was the incumbent there. She 
 declares that she has never been well since she left the 
 parish." 
 
 " And what did you say is the name of the present 
 inhabitant of this earthly paradise, the man with whom 
 you have exchanged ? " interrupted the Colonel. 
 
 " Fregelius the Reverend Peter Fregelius." 
 
 " What an exceedingly odd name ! Is he an English- 
 man ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but I think that his father was a Dane, and he 
 married a Danish lady." 
 
 " Indeed ! Is she living ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. She died a great many years ago. The old 
 gentleman has only one child left a girl." 
 
 " What is her name ? " asked someone idly, in a break
 
 A PROPOSAL AND A PROMISE 57 
 
 of the general conversation, so that everybody paused 
 to listen to his reply. 
 
 " Stella Stella Fregelius ; a very unusual girl." 
 
 Then the conversation broke out again with renewed 
 vigour, and all that those at Morris's end of the table 
 could catch were snatches such as : " Wonderful eyes " ; 
 " Independent young person " ; " Well read and musi- 
 cal"; "Oh, yes! poor as church mice, that's why he 
 accepted my offer." 
 
 At this point the Doctor began a rather vehement 
 argument with Mr. Person as to the advisability of 
 countervailing duties to force foreign nations to aban- 
 don the sugar bounties, and no more was heard of Mr. 
 Tomley and his plans. 
 
 On the whole, Mary enjoyed that dinner-party. Miss 
 Layard, somewhat sore after her first encounter, at- 
 tempted to retaliate later. 
 
 But by this time Mary's argumentative energy had 
 evaporated. Therefore, adroitly appealing to Mr. Lay- 
 ard to take her part, she retired from the fray till, seeing 
 that it grew acrimonious, for this brother and sister did 
 not love each other, she pretended to hear no more. 
 
 "Have you been stopping out all night again and 
 staring at the sea, Morris?" she inquired; "because I 
 understand it is a habit of yours. You seem so sleepy. 
 I know that I must have looked just like you when that 
 old political gentleman took me in to dinner, and I made 
 an exhibition of myself." 
 
 " What was that ? " asked Morris. 
 
 So she told him the story of her unlawful slumbers, 
 and so amusingly that he burst out laughing and 
 remained in an excellent mood for the rest of the feast,
 
 58 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 or at any rate until the ladies had departed. After this 
 event once more he became somewhat silent and distrait. 
 
 It was not wonderful. To most men, except the very 
 experienced, proposals are terrifying ordeals, and Morris 
 had made up his mind, if he could find a chance, to pro- 
 pose to Mary that night. The thing was to be done, 
 so the sooner he did it the better. 
 
 Then it would be over, one way or the other. Besides, 
 and this was strange and opportune enough, never had 
 he felt so deeply and truly attracted to Mary. Whether 
 it was because her soft, indolent beauty showed at its 
 best this evening in that gown and setting, or because 
 her conversation, with its sub-acid tinge of kindly hu- 
 mour amused him, or and this seemed more probable 
 because her whole attitude towards himself was so 
 gentle and so full of sweet benevolence, he could not 
 say. At any rate, this remained true, she attracted him 
 more than any woman he had ever met, or whom, as he 
 thought, he was ever likely to meet, and sincerely he 
 hoped and prayed that when he asked her to be his wife 
 she might find it in her heart to answer Yes. 
 
 The rest of the entertainment resembled that of most 
 country dinner-parties. Conducted to the piano by the 
 Colonel, who understood music very well, the talented 
 ladies of the party, including Miss Rose, sang songs 
 with more or less success, while Miss Layard criticised, 
 Mary was appreciative, and the men talked. At length 
 the local baronet's wife looked at the local baronet, who 
 thereupon asked leave to order the carriage. This 
 example the rest of the company followed in quick suc- 
 cession until all were gone except Mr. Porson and his 
 daughter.
 
 A PROPOSAL AND A PROMISE 59 
 
 " Well, my dear," said Mr. Person, " I suppose that 
 we had better be off too, or you won't get your customary 
 nine hours." 
 
 Mary yawned slightly and assented, asserting that 
 she had utterly exhausted herself in defending Miss 
 Rose from the attacks of her rival, Miss Layard. 
 
 "No, no," broke in the Colonel, "come and have a 
 smoke first, John. I've got that old map of the property 
 unrolled on purpose to show you, and I don't want to 
 keep it about, for it fills up the whole place. Morris 
 will look after Mary for half an hour, I daresay." 
 
 " Certainly," said Morris, but the heart within him 
 sank to the level of his dress-shoes. Here was the 
 opportunity for which he had wished, but as he could 
 not be called a forward, or even a pushing lover, he was 
 alarmed at its very prompt arrival. This answer to his 
 prayers was somewhat too swift and thorough. There 
 is a story of an enormously fat old Boer who was seated 
 on the veld with his horse at his side, when suddenly a 
 band of armed natives rushed to attack him. " Oh, God, 
 help ! " he cried in his native taal, as he prepared to 
 heave his huge form into the saddle. Having thus 
 invoked divine assistance, this Dutch Falstaff went at 
 the task with such a will that in a trice he found himself 
 not on the horse, but over it, lying upon his back, indeed, 
 among the grasses. " O God ! " that deluded burgher 
 exclaimed, reproachfully, as the Kaffirs came up and 
 speared him, "Thou hast helped a great deal too 
 much ! " 
 
 At this moment Morris felt very much like this stout 
 but simple dweller in the wilderness. He would have 
 preferred to coquet with the enemy for a while from the
 
 60 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 safety of his saddle. But Providence had willed it other- 
 wise. 
 
 "Won't you come out, Mary?" he said, with the 
 courage which inspires men in desperate situations. 
 He felt that it would be impossible to say those words 
 with the electric lights looking at him like so many 
 eyes. The thought of it, even, made him warm all 
 over. 
 
 " I don't know ; it depends. Is there anything com- 
 fortable to sit on ? " 
 
 "The deck chair," he suggested. 
 
 "That sounds nice. I have slumbered for hours in 
 deck chairs. Look, there's a fur rug on that sofa, and 
 here's my white cape ; now you get your coat, and I'll 
 come." 
 
 "Thank you, no; I don't want any coat; I am hot 
 enough already." 
 
 Mary turned and looked him up and down with her 
 wondering blue eyes. 
 
 " Do you really think it safe," she said, " to expose 
 yourself to all sorts of unknown dangers in this unpro- 
 tected condition ? " 
 
 " Of course," he answered. " I am not afraid of the 
 night air even in October." 
 
 " Very well, very well, Morris," she went on, and there 
 was meaning in her voice ; " then whatever happens 
 don't blame me. It's so easy to be rash and thoughtless 
 and catch a chill, and then you may become an invalid 
 for life, or die, you know. One can't get rid of it again 
 at least, not often." 
 
 Morris looked at her with a puzzled air, and stepped 
 through the window which he had opened, on to the
 
 A PROPOSAL AND A PROMISE 6 1 
 
 lawn, whither, with a quaint little shrug of her shoulders, 
 Mary followed him, muttering to herself : 
 
 " Now if he takes cold, it won't be my fault." Then 
 she stopped, clasped her hands, and said, " Oh ! what a 
 lovely night. I am glad that we came out here." 
 
 She was right, it was indeed lovely. High in the 
 heavens floated a bright half-moon, across whose face 
 the little white-edged clouds drifted in quick succession, 
 throwing their gigantic shadows to the world beneath. 
 All silver was the sleeping sea where the moonlight fell 
 upon it, and when this was eclipsed, then it was all jet. 
 To the right and left, up to the very borders of the cliff, 
 lay the soft wreaths of roke or land-fog, covering the 
 earth as with a cloak of down, but pierced here and 
 there by the dim and towering shapes of trees. Yet 
 although these curling wreaths of mist hung on the 
 edges of the cliff like white water about to fall, they 
 never fell, since clear to the sight, though separated 
 from them by a gulf of translucent blackness, lay the 
 yellow belt of sand up which, inch by inch, the tide was 
 creeping. 
 
 And the air no wind stirred it, though the wind was 
 at work aloft it was still and bright as crystal, and 
 crisp and cold as new-iced wine, for the first autumn 
 frost was falling. 
 
 They stood for a few moments looking at all these 
 wonderful beauties of the mysterious night which 
 dwellers in the country so rarely appreciate, because 
 to them they are common, daily things and listening 
 to the soft, long-drawn murmuring of the sea upon the 
 shingle. Then they went forward to the edge of the 
 cliff, but although Morris threw the fur rug over it
 
 62 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Mary did not seat herself in the comfortable-looking deck 
 chair. Her desire for repose had departed. She pre- 
 ferred to lean upon the low grey wall in whose crannies 
 grew lichens, tiny ferns, and, in their season, harebells 
 and wallflowers. Morris came and leant at her side; 
 for a while they both stared at the sea. 
 
 " Pray, are you making up poetry ? " she inquired at 
 last. 
 
 " Why do you ask such silly questions ? " he answered, 
 not without indignation. 
 
 " Because you keep muttering to yourself, and I 
 thought that you were trying to get the lines to scan. 
 Also the sea, and the sky, and the night suggest poetry, 
 don't they ? " 
 
 Morris turned his head and looked at her. 
 
 "You suggest it," he said, with desperate earnestness, 
 "in all that shining white, especially when the moon 
 goes in. Then you look like a beautiful spirit new lit 
 upon the edge of the world." 
 
 At first Mary was pleased, the compliment was obvi- 
 ous, and, coming from Morris, great. She had never 
 heard him say so much as that before. Then she thought 
 an instant, and the echo of the word " spirit " came back 
 to her mind, and jarred upon it with a little sudden shock. 
 Even when he had a lovely woman at his side must his 
 fancy be wandering to these unearthly denizens and 
 similes. 
 
 "Please, Morris," she said almost sharply, "do not 
 compare me to a spirit. I am a woman, nothing more, 
 and if it is not enough that I should be a woman, then 
 
 " she paused, to add, " I beg your pardon, I know 
 
 you meant to be nice, but once I had a friend who went
 
 A PROPOSAL AND A PROMISE 63 
 
 in for spirits table-turning ones I mean with very 
 bad results, and I detest the name of them." 
 
 Morris took this rebuff better than might have been 
 expected. 
 
 "Would you object if one ventured to call you an 
 angel ? " he asked. 
 
 " Not if the word was used in a terrestrial sense. It 
 excites a vision of possibilities, and the fib is so big that 
 anyone must pardon it." 
 
 " Very well, then ; I call you that." 
 
 " Thank you, I should be delighted to return the com- 
 pliment. Can you think of any celestial definition ap- 
 propriate to a youngish gentleman with dark eyes ? " 
 
 "Oh! Mary, please stop making fun of me," said 
 Morris, with something like a groan. 
 
 " Why ? " she asked innocently. " Besides I wasn't 
 making fun. It's only my way of carrying on conver- 
 sation ; they taught it me at school, you know." 
 
 Morris made no answer ; in fact, he did not know what 
 on earth to say, or rather how to find the fitting words. 
 After all, it was an accident and not his own intelligence 
 that freed him from his difficulty. Mary moved a little, 
 causing the white cloak, which was unfastened, to slip 
 from her shoulders. Morris put out his hand to catch 
 it, and met her hand. In another instant he had thrown 
 his arm round her, drawn her to him, and kissed her on 
 the lips. Then, abashed at what he had done, he let 
 her go and picked up the cloak. 
 
 " Might I ask ? " began Mary in her usual sweet, low 
 tones. Then her voice broke, and her blue eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; I am a brute," began Morris,
 
 64 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 utterly abased by the sight of these tears, which glim- 
 mered like pearls in the moonlight; "but, of course, you 
 know what I mean." 
 
 Mary shook her head vacantly. Apparently she 
 could not trust herself to speak. 
 
 " Dear, will you take me ? " 
 
 She made no answer ; only, after pausing for some few 
 seconds as though lost in thought, with a little action 
 more eloquent than any speech, she leant herself ever 
 so slightly towards him. 
 
 Afterwards, as she lay in his arms, words came to him 
 readily enough : 
 
 " I am not worth your having," he said. " I know I 
 am an odd fellow, not like other men ; my very failings 
 have not been the same as other men's. For instance 
 
 before heaven it is true you are the first woman 
 whom I ever kissed, as I swear to you that you shall be 
 the last. Then, what else am I ? A failure in the very 
 work that I have chosen, and the heir to a bankrupt 
 property ! Oh ! it is not fair ; I have no right to ask 
 you!" 
 
 " I think it quite fair, and here I am the judge, Mor- 
 ris." Then, sentence by sentence, she went on, not all 
 at once, but with breaks and pauses : 
 
 " You asked me just now if I loved you, and I told you 
 
 Yes. But you did not ask me when I began to love 
 you. I will tell you all the same. I can't remember a 
 time when I didn't; no, not since I was a little girl. 
 It was you who grew away from me, not me from 
 you, when you took to studying mysticism and aero- 
 phones, and were repelled by all women, myself in- 
 cluded."
 
 A PROPOSAL AND A PROMISE 65 
 
 "I know, I know," he said. "Don't remind me of my 
 dead follies. Some things are born in the blood." 
 
 " Quite so, and they remain in the bone. I under- 
 stand. Morris, unless you maltreat me wilfully which 
 I am sure you would never do I shall always under- 
 stand." 
 
 " What are you afraid of ? " he asked in a shaken 
 voice. " I feel that you are afraid." 
 
 " Oh, one or two things ; that you might overwork 
 yourself, for instance. Or, lest you should find that 
 after all you are more human than you imagine, and be 
 taken possession of by some strange Stella coming out 
 of nowhere." 
 
 "What do you mean, and why do you use that name ?" 
 he said amazed. 
 
 "What I say, dear. As for that name, I heard it 
 accidentally at table to-night, and it came to my lips of 
 itself. It seemed to typify what I meant, and to suggest 
 a wandering star such as men like you are fond of 
 following." 
 
 "Upon my honour," said Morris, "I will do none of 
 these things." 
 
 " If you can help it, you will do none of them. I 
 know it well enough. I hope and believe that there 
 will never be a shadow between us while we live. But, 
 Morris, I take you, risks and all, because it has been my 
 chance to love you and nobody else. Otherwise, I should 
 think twice ; but love doesn't stop at risks." 
 
 "What have I done to deserve this ? " groaned Morris. 
 
 " I cannot see. I should very much like to know," 
 replied Mary, with a touch of her old humour. 
 
 It was at this moment that Colonel Monk, happening
 
 66 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 to come round the corner of the house, walking on the 
 grass, and followed by Mr. Person, saw a sight which 
 interested him. With one hand he pointed it out to 
 Porson, at the same moment motioning him to silence 
 with the other. Then, taking his brother-in-law by the 
 arm, he dragged him back round the corner of the house. 
 " They make a pretty picture there in the moonlight, 
 don't they, John, my boy ? " he said. " Come, we had 
 better go back into the study and talk over matters till 
 they have done. Even the warmth of their emotions 
 won't keep out the night air for ever."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 THE GOOD DAYS 
 
 FOR the next month, or, to be accurate, the next five 
 weeks, everything went merrily at Monk's Abbey. It 
 was as though some cloud had been lifted off the place 
 and those who dwelt therein. No longer did the Colonel 
 look solemn when he came down in the morning, and 
 no longer was he cross after he had read his letters. 
 Now his interviews with the steward in the study were 
 neither prolonged nor anxious ; indeed, that functionary 
 emerged thence on Saturday mornings with a shining 
 countenance, drying the necessary cheque, heretofore so 
 difficult to extract, by waving it ostentatiously in the air. 
 Lastly, the Colonel did not seem to be called upon to 
 make such frequent visits to his man of business, and to 
 tarry at the office of the bank manager in Northwold. 
 Once there was a meeting, but, contrary to the general 
 custom, the lawyer and the banker came to see him in 
 company, and stopped to luncheon. At this meal, more- 
 over, the three of them appeared to be in the best of 
 spirits. 
 
 Morris noted all these things in his quiet, observant 
 way, and from them drew certain conclusions of his 
 own. But he shrank from making inquiries, nor did the 
 Colonel offer any confidences. After all, why should 
 he, who had never meddled with his father's business, 
 
 67
 
 68 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 choose this moment to explore it, especially as he knew 
 from previous experience that such investigations would 
 not be well received ? It was one of the Colonel's pe- 
 culiarities to keep his affairs to himself until they grew 
 so bad that circumstances forced him to seek the coun- 
 sel or the aid of others. Still, Morris could well guess 
 from what mine the money was digged that caused so 
 comfortable a change in their circumstances, and the 
 solution of this mystery gave him little joy. Cash in 
 consideration of an unconcluded marriage; that was 
 how it read. To his sensitive nature the transaction 
 seemed one of doubtful worth. 
 
 However, no one else appeared to be troubled, if, in- 
 deed, these things existed elsewhere than in his own imag- 
 ination. This, Morris admitted, was possible, for their 
 access of prosperity might, after all, be no more than a 
 resurrection of credit, vivified by the news of his engage- 
 ment with the only child of a man known to be wealthy. 
 His uncle Person, with a solemnity that was almost 
 touching, had bestowed upon Mary and himself a jerky 
 but earnest blessing before he drove home on the night 
 of the dinner-party. He went so far, indeed, as to kiss 
 them both ; an example which the Colonel followed with 
 a more finished but equally heartfelt grace. 
 
 Now his uncle John beamed upon him daily like the 
 noonday sun. Also he began to take him into his con- 
 fidence, and consult him as to the erection of houses, 
 affairs of business, and investments. In the course of 
 these interviews Morris was astonished, not to say dis- 
 mayed, to discover how large were the sums of money 
 as to the disposal of which he was expected to express 
 opinions.
 
 THE GOOD DAYS 69 
 
 "You see, it will all be yours, my boy," said Mr. 
 Person one day, in explanation ; " so it is best that you 
 should know something of these affairs. Yes, it will all 
 be yours, before very long," and he sighed. 
 
 " I trust that I shall have nothing to do with it for 
 many years," blurted out Morris. 
 
 " Say months, say months," answered his uncle, 
 stretching out his hands as though to push something 
 from him. Then, to all appearances overcome by a sud- 
 den anguish, physical or mental, he turned and hurried 
 from the room. 
 
 Taking them all together, those five weeks were the 
 happiest that Morris had ever known. A weight had 
 lifted itself from his soul. No longer was he profoundly 
 dissatisfied with things in general, no longer ravaged 
 by that desire of the moth for the star which in some 
 natures is almost a disease. His outlook upon the 
 world was healthier and more hopeful; for the first 
 time he saw its wholesome, joyous side. Had he failed 
 to do so, indeed, he must have been a very strange man, 
 for he had much to make the poorest heart rejoice. 
 
 Thus Mary, always a charming woman, since her 
 engagement had become absolutely delightful; wittier, 
 more wideawake, more beautiful. Morris could look 
 forward to the years to be spent in her company not 
 only without misgiving, but with a confidence that a 
 while ago he would have thought impossible. More- 
 over, as good fortunes never come singly, his were des- 
 tined to be multiplied. It was in those days after so 
 many years of search and unfruitful labour that at last 
 he discovered a clue which in the end resulted in the 
 perfection of the instrument that was the parent of the
 
 70 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 aerophone of commerce, and gave him a name among 
 the inventors of the century which will not easily be 
 forgotten. 
 
 Strangely enough, it was Morris's good genius, Mary, 
 who suggested the substance, or, rather, the mixture of 
 substances, whereof that portion of the aerophone was 
 finally constructed which is still known as the Monk 
 Sound Waves Receiver. Whether, as she alleged, she 
 made this discovery by pure accident, or whether, as 
 seems possible, she had thought the problem out in her 
 own feminine fashion with results that proved excellent, 
 does not matter in the least. The issue remains the 
 same. An apparatus which before would work only on 
 rare occasions and then without any certitude be- 
 tween people in the highest state of sympathy or nervous 
 excitement, has now been brought to such a stage of 
 perfection that by its means anybody can talk to any- 
 body, even if their interests are antagonistic, or their 
 personal enmity bitter. 
 
 After the first few experiments with this new material 
 Morris was not slow to discover that although it would 
 need long and careful testing and elaboration, for him it 
 meant, in the main, the realisation of his great dream, 
 and success after years of failure. And that was the 
 strange part of it this realisation and success he owed 
 to no effort of his own, but to some chance suggestion 
 made by Mary. He told her this, and thanked her as 
 a man thanks one through whom he has found salva- 
 tion. In answer she merely laughed, saying that she 
 was nothing but the wire along which a happy in- 
 spiration had reached his brain, and that more than this 
 she neither wished, nor hoped, nor was capable of being.
 
 THE GOOD DAYS 71 
 
 Then suddenly on this happy, tranquil atmosphere 
 which wrapped them about like the sound of a pass- 
 ing bell at a children's feast floated the first note of 
 impending doom and death. 
 
 The autumn held fine and mild, and Mary, who had been 
 lunching at the Abbey, was playing croquet with Morris 
 upon the side lawn. This game was the only one for 
 which she chanced to care, perhaps because it did not 
 involve much exertion. Morris, who engaged in the 
 pastime with the same earnestness that he gave to every 
 other pursuit in which he happened to be interested, 
 was, as might be expected, getting the best of the 
 encounter. 
 
 " Won't you take a couple of bisques, dear ? " he 
 asked affectionately, after a while. " I don't like always 
 beating you by such a lot." 
 
 " I'd die first," she answered ; " bisques are the badge 
 of advertised inferiority and a mark of the giver's 
 contempt." 
 
 " Stuff ! " said Morris. 
 
 " Stuff, indeed ! As though it wasn't bad enough to 
 be beaten at all ; but to be beaten with bisques ! " 
 
 "That's another argument," said Morris. " First you 
 say you are too proud to accept them, and next that 
 you won't accept them because it is worse to be defeated 
 with points than without them." 
 
 "Anyway, if you had the commonest feelings of 
 humanity you wouldn't beat me," replied Mary, adroitly 
 shifting her ground for the third time. 
 
 " How can I help it if you won't have the bisques?" 
 
 " How ? By pretending that you were doing your 
 best, and letting me win all the same, of course ; though
 
 72 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 if I caught you at it I should be furious. But what's 
 the use of trying to teach a blunt creature like you tact ? 
 My dear Morris, I assure you I do not believe that your 
 efforts at deception would take in the simplest-minded 
 cow. Why, even Dad sees through you, and the person 
 
 who can't impose upon my Dad . Oh ! " she added, 
 
 suddenly, in a changed voice, " there is George coming 
 through the gate. Something has happened to my 
 father. Look at his face, Morris ; look at his face ! " 
 
 In another moment the footman stood before them. 
 
 "Please, miss, the master," he began, and hesitated. 
 
 " Not dead ? " said Mary, in a slow, quiet voice. " Do 
 not say that he is dead ! " 
 
 " No, miss, but he has had a stroke of the heart or 
 something, and the doctor thought you had better be 
 fetched, so I have brought the carriage." 
 
 "Come with me, Morris," she said, as, dropping the 
 croquet mallet, she flew rather than ran to the brougham. 
 
 Ten minutes later they were at Seaview. In the hall 
 they met Mr. Charters, the doctor. Why was he leaving ? 
 Because 
 
 " No, no," he said, answering their looks; " the danger 
 is past. He seems almost as well as ever." 
 
 " Thank God ! " stammered Mary. Then a thought 
 struck her, and she looked up sharply and asked, " Will 
 it come back again ? " 
 
 " Yes," was his straightforward answer. 
 
 " When ? " 
 
 " From time to time, at irregular periods. But in its 
 fatal shape, as I hope, not for some years." 
 
 "The verdict might have been worse, dear," said 
 Morris.
 
 THE GOOD DAYS 73 
 
 " Yes, yes, but to think that it has passed so near to 
 him, and he quite alone at the time. Morris," she 
 went on, turning to him with an energy that was 
 almost fierce, " if you won't have my father to live with 
 us, I won't marry you. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " Perfectly, dear, you leave no room for misconcep- 
 tion. By all means let him live with us if he can get 
 on with my father," he added meaningly. 
 
 " Ah ! " she replied, " I never thought of that. Also 
 I should not have spoken so roughly, but I have had 
 such a shock that I feel inclined to treat you like 
 like a toad under a harrow. So please be sympa- 
 thetic, and don't misunderstand me, or I don't know 
 what I shall say." Then by way of making amends, 
 Mary put her arms round his neck and gave him a kiss 
 "all of her own accord," saying, "Morris, I am afraid 
 I am afraid. I feel as if our good time was done." 
 
 After this the servant came to say that she might go 
 up to her father's room, and that scene of our drama 
 was at an end. 
 
 Mr. Person owned a villa at Beaulieu, in the south 
 of France, which he had built many years before as a 
 winter house for his wife, whose chest was weak. Here 
 he was in the habit of spending the spring months, 
 more, perhaps, because of the associations which the 
 place possessed for him than of any affection for foreign 
 lands. Now, however, after this last attack, three 
 doctors in consultation announced that it would be well 
 for him to escape from the fogs and damp of England. 
 So to Beaulieu he was ordered. 
 
 This decree caused consternation in various quar- 
 ters. Mr. Person did not wish to go ; Mary and Morris
 
 74 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 were cast down for simple and elementary reasons ; and 
 Colonel Monk found this change of plan it had been 
 arranged that the Persons should stop at Seaview till 
 the New Year, which was to be the day of the marriage 
 inconvenient, and, indeed, disturbing. Once those 
 young people were parted, reflected the Colonel in his 
 wisdom, who could tell what might or might not 
 happen ? 
 
 In this difficulty he found an inspiration. Why 
 should not the wedding take place at once ? Very 
 diplomatically he sounded his brother-in-law, to find 
 that he had no opposition to fear in this quarter pro- 
 vided that Mary and her husband would join him at 
 Beaulieu after a week or two of honeymoon. Then he 
 spoke to Morris, who was delighted with the idea. For 
 Morris had come to the conclusion that the marriage 
 state would be better and more satisfactory than one of 
 prolonged engagement. 
 
 It only remained, therefore, to obtain the consent of 
 Mary, which would, perhaps, have been given without 
 much difficulty had her uncle been content to leave his 
 son or Mr. Porson to ask it of her. As it chanced, this 
 he was not willing to do. Porson, he was sure, would 
 at once give way should his daughter raise any objec- 
 tion, and in Morris's tact and persuasive powers the 
 Colonel had no faith. 
 
 In the issue, confident in his own diplomatic abilities, 
 he determined to manage the affair himself and to speak 
 to his niece. The mistake was grave, for whereas she 
 was as wax to her father or her lover, something in her 
 uncle's manner, or it may have been his very personal- 
 ity, always aroused in Mary a spirit of opposition. On
 
 THE GOOD DAYS 75 
 
 this occasion, too, that manner was not fortunate, for he 
 put the proposal before her as a thing already agreed 
 upon by all concerned, and one to which her consent 
 was asked as a mere matter of form. 
 
 Instantly Mary became antagonistic. She pretended 
 not to understand ; she asked for reasons and explana- 
 tions. Finally, she announced in idle words, beneath 
 which ran a current of determination, that neither her 
 father nor Morris could really wish this hurried mar- 
 riage, since had they done so one or other of them 
 would have spoken to her on the subject. When 
 pressed, she intimated very politely, but in language 
 whereof the meaning could hardly be mistaken, that 
 she held this fixing of the date to be peculiarly her 
 own privilege ; and when still further pressed said 
 plainly that she considered her father too ill for her to 
 think of being married at present. 
 
 " But they both desire it," expostulated the Colonel. 
 
 "They_have not told me so," Mary answered, setting 
 her red lips. 
 
 " If that is all, they will tell you so soon enough, my 
 dear girl." 
 
 " Perhaps, uncle, after they have been directed to do 
 so, but that is not quite the same thing." 
 
 The Colonel saw that he had made a mistake, and 
 too late changed his tactics. 
 
 " You see, Mary, your father's state of health is pre- 
 carious ; he might grow worse." 
 
 She tapped her foot upon the ground. Of these 
 allusions to the possible, and, indeed, the certain end 
 to her beloved father's illness, she had a kind of 
 horror.
 
 76 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " In that event, that dreadful event," she answered, 
 " he will need me, my whole time and care to nurse 
 him. These I might not be able to give if I were 
 already married. I love Morris very dearly. I am his 
 for whatever I may be worth ; but I was my father's 
 before Morris came into my life, and he has the first 
 claim upon me." 
 
 " What, then, do you propose ? " asked the Colonel 
 curtly, for opposition and argument bred no meekness 
 in his somewhat arbitrary breast. 
 
 "To be married on New Year's Day, wherever we 
 are, if Morris wishes it and the state of my father's 
 health makes it convenient. If not, Uncle Richard, to 
 wait till a more fitting season." Then she rose for 
 this conversation took place at Seaview saying that 
 it was time she should give her father his medicine. 
 
 Thus the project of an early marriage fell through ; 
 for, having once been driven into announcing her decision 
 in terms so open and unmistakable, Mary would not go 
 back upon her word. 
 
 Morris, who was much disappointed, pleaded with her. 
 Her father also spoke upon the subject, but though the 
 voice was the voice of Mr. Person, the arguments, she 
 perceived, were the arguments of Colonel Monk. There- 
 fore she hardened her heart and put the matter by, re- 
 fusing, indeed, to discuss it at any length. Yet and 
 it is not the first time that a woman has allowed her 
 whims to prevail over her secret wishes in truth she 
 desired nothing more than to be married to Morris so 
 soon as it was his will to take her. 
 
 Finally, a compromise was arranged. There was to 
 be no wedding at present, but the whole party were to
 
 THE GOOD DAYS 77 
 
 go together to Beaulieu, there to await the development 
 of events. It was agreed, moreover, by all concerned, 
 that unless something unforeseen occurred to prevent 
 it, the marriage should be celebrated upon or about 
 New Year's Day.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 BEAULIEU 
 
 BEAUTIFUL as it might be and fashionable as it might 
 be, Morris did not find Beaulieu very entertaining; 
 indeed, in an unguarded moment he confessed to Mary 
 that he " hated the hole." Even the steam launch in 
 which they went for picnics did not console him, fond 
 though he was of the sea ; while as for Monte Carlo, 
 after his third visit he was heard to declare that if they 
 wanted to take him there again it must be in his coffin. 
 
 The Colonel did not share these views. He was 
 out for a holiday, and he meant to enjoy himself. To 
 begin with, there was the club at Nice, where he fell in 
 with several old comrades and friends. Then, whom 
 should he meet but Lady Rawlins : once, for a little 
 while in the distant past, they had been engaged ; until 
 suddenly the young lady, a beauty in her day, jilted him 
 in favour of a wealthy banker of Hebraic origin. Now, 
 many years after, the banker was aged, violent, and un- 
 comely, habitually exceeded in his cups, and abused his 
 wife before the servants. So it came about that to the 
 poor woman the Colonel's courteous, if somewhat sar- 
 castic, consolations were really very welcome. It pleased 
 him also to offer them. The jilting he had long ago for- 
 given ; indeed, he blessed her nightly for having taken 
 
 78
 
 BEAU LIEU 79 
 
 that view of her obligations, seeing that Jane Millet, as 
 she was then, however pretty her face may once have 
 been, had neither fortune nor connections. 
 
 "Yes, my dear Jane," he said to her confidentially 
 one afternoon, "I assure you I often admire your fore- 
 sight. Now, if you had done the other thing, where 
 should we have been to-day? In the workhouse, I 
 imagine." 
 
 " I suppose so," answered Lady Rawlins, meekly, and 
 suppressing a sigh, since for the courtly and distinguished 
 Colonel she cherished a sentimental admiration which 
 actually increased with age ; " but you didn't always 
 think like that, Richard." Then she glanced out of the 
 window, and added : " Oh, there is Jonah coming home, 
 and he looks so cross," and the poor lady shivered. 
 
 The Colonel put up his eyeglass and contemplated 
 Jonah, through the window. He was not a pleasing 
 spectacle. A rather low-class Hebrew who calls himself 
 a Christian, of unpleasant appearance and sinister tem- 
 per, suffering from the effects of lunch, is not an object 
 to be loved. 
 
 "Ah, I see," said the Colonel. "Yes, Sir Jonah ages, 
 doesn't he ? as, indeed, we do all of us," and he glanced 
 at the lady's spreading proportions. Then he went on. 
 "You really should persuade him to be tidier in his 
 costume, Jane; his ancestral namesake could scarcely 
 have looked more dishevelled after his sojourn with the 
 whale. Well, it is a small failing ; one can't have every- 
 thing, and on the whole, with your wealth and the rest, 
 you have been a very fortunate woman." 
 
 "Oh, Richard, how can you say so?" murmured the 
 wretched Lady Rawlins, as she took the hand out-
 
 80 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 stretched in farewell. For Jonah in large doses was 
 more than the Colonel could stomach. 
 
 Indeed, as the door closed behind him she wiped 
 away a tear, whispering to herself : " And to think that 
 I threw over dear Richard in order to marry that 
 that yes, I will say it that horror!" 
 
 Meanwhile, as he strolled down the street, beautifully 
 dressed, and still looking very upright and handsome 
 for he had never lost his figure the Colonel was saying 
 to himself : 
 
 "Silly old woman! Well, I hope that by now she 
 knows the difference between a gentleman and a half- 
 Christianised, money-hunting, wine-bibbing Jew. How- 
 ever, she's got the fortune, which was what she wanted, 
 although she forgets it now, and he's got a lachrymose, 
 stout, old party. But how beautiful she used to be ! 
 My word, how beautiful she used to be ! To go to see 
 her now is better than any sermon ; it is an admirable 
 moral exercise." 
 
 To Lady Rawlins also the Colonel's visits proved 
 excellent moral exercises tinged with chastenings. 
 Whenever he went away he left behind him some 
 aphorism or reflection filled with a wholesome bitter. 
 But still she sought his society and, in secret, adored 
 him. 
 
 In addition to the club and Lady Rawlins there were 
 the tables at Monte Carlo, with their motley company, 
 which to a man of the world could not fail to be amus- 
 ing. Besides, the Colonel had one weakness sometimes 
 he did a little gambling, and when he played he liked to 
 play fairly high. Morris accompanied him once to the 
 " Salles de jeu," and that was enough. What passed
 
 BEAU LIEU 8 1 
 
 there exactly, could never be got out of him, even by 
 Mary, whose sense of humour was more than satisfied 
 by the little comedies in progress about her, no single 
 point of which did she ever miss. 
 
 Only, funny as she might be in her general feebleness, 
 and badly as she might have behaved in some distant 
 past, for poor Lady Rawlins she felt sorry. Her kind 
 heart told Mary that this unhappy person also possessed 
 a heart, although she was now stout and on the wrong 
 side of middle age. She was aware, too, that the 
 Colonel knew as much, and his scientific pin-pricks 
 and searings of that guileless and unprotected organ 
 struck her as little short of cruel. None the less so, 
 indeed, because the victim at the stake imagined that 
 they were inflicted in kindness by the hand of a still 
 tender and devoted friend. 
 
 " I hope that I shan't quarrel with my father-in-law," 
 reflected Mary to herself, after one of the best of these 
 exhibitions ; " he's got an uncommonly long memory, and 
 likes to come even. However, I never shall, because 
 he's afraid of me and knows that I see through 
 him." 
 
 Mary was right. A very sincere respect for her 
 martial powers when roused ensured perfect peace 
 between her and the Colonel. With his son, however, 
 it was otherwise. Even in this age of the Triumph of 
 the Offspring parents do exist who take advantage of 
 their sons' strict observance of the Fifth Commandment. 
 It is easy to turn a man into a moral bolster and sit 
 upon him if you know that an exaggerated sense of 
 filial duty will prevent him from stuffing himself with 
 pins. So it came about that Morris was sometimes sat
 
 82 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 upon, especially when the Colonel was suffering from a 
 bad evening at the tables ; well out of sight and hear- 
 ing of Mary, be it understood, who on such occasions 
 was apt to develop a quite formidable temper. 
 
 It is over this question of the tables that one of these 
 domestic differences arose which in its results brought 
 about the return of Morris to Monksland. Upon a cer- 
 tain afternoon the Colonel asked his son to accompany 
 him to Monte Carlo. Morris refused, rather curtly, 
 perhaps. 
 
 " Very well," replied the Colonel in his grandest man- 
 ner. " I am sure I do not wish for an unwilling com- 
 panion, and doubtless your attention is claimed by 
 affairs more important than the according of your 
 company to a father." 
 
 "No," replied Morris, with his accustomed truthfulness; 
 " I am going out sea-fishing, that is all." 
 
 " Quite so. Allow me then to wish good luck to your 
 fishing. Does Mary accompany you ? " 
 
 " No, I think not; she says the boat makes her sick, 
 and she can't bear eels." 
 
 " So much the better, as I can ask for the pleasure of 
 her society this afternoon." 
 
 " Yes, you can ask," said Morris, suddenly turning 
 angry. 
 
 " Do you imply, Morris, that the request will be 
 refused ? " 
 
 " Certainly, father ; if I have anything to do with it." 
 
 " And might I inquire why ? " 
 
 " Because I won't have Mary taken to that place to 
 mix with the people who frequent it." 
 
 " I see. This is exclusiveness with a vengeance. Per-
 
 BEAULIEU 83 
 
 haps you consider that those unholy doors should be 
 shut to me also." 
 
 " I have no right to express an opinion as to where 
 my father should or should not go ; but if you ask me, I 
 think that, under all the circumstances, you would do 
 best to keep away." 
 
 " The circumstances ! What circumstances ? " 
 
 " Those of our poverty, which leaves us no money to 
 risk in gambling." 
 
 Then the Colonel lost all control of his temper, as 
 sometimes happened to him, and became exceedingly 
 violent and unpleasant. What he said does not matter ; 
 let it suffice that the remarks were of a character which 
 even headstrong men are accustomed to reserve for the 
 benefit of their women-folk and other intimate relations. 
 
 Attracted by the noise, which was considerable, Mary 
 came in to find her uncle marching up and down the 
 room vituperating Morris, who, with quite a new expres- 
 sion upon his face a quiet, dogged kind of expression 
 was leaning upon the mantel-piece and watching 
 him. 
 
 " Uncle," began Mary, "would you mind being a little 
 quieter ? My father is asleep upstairs, and I am afraid 
 that you will awake him." 
 
 " I am sorry, my dear, very sorry, but there are some 
 insults that no man with self-respect can submit to, even 
 from a eon." 
 
 "Insults! insults!" Mary repeated, opening her blue 
 eyes ; then, looking at him with a pained air : " Morris, 
 why do you insult your father ? " 
 
 " Insult ? " he replied. " Then I will tell you how. My 
 father wanted to take you to play with him at Monte
 
 84 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Carlo this afternoon, and I said that you shouldn't go. 
 That's the insult." 
 
 " You observe, my dear," broke in the Colonel, " that 
 already he treats you as one having authority." 
 
 " Yes," said Mary, " and why shouldn't he ? Now that 
 my father is so weak who am I to obey if not Morris ? " 
 
 " Oh, well, well," said the Colonel, diplomatically be- 
 ginning to cool, for he could control his temper when he 
 liked. " Everyone to their taste ; but some matters are 
 so delicate that I prefer not to discuss them," and he 
 looked round for his hat. 
 
 By this time, however, the cyclonic condition of things 
 had affected Mary also, and she determined that he 
 should not escape so easily. 
 
 " Before you go," she went on in her slow voice, " I 
 should like to say, uncle, that I quite agree with Morris. 
 I don't think those tables are quite the place to take 
 young ladies to, especially if the gentleman with them 
 is much engaged in play." 
 
 " Indeed, indeed ; then you are both of a mind, which 
 is quite as it should be. Of course, too, upon such 
 matters of conduct and etiquette we must all bow to 
 the taste and the experience of the young even those 
 of us who have mixed with the world for forty years. 
 Might I ask, my dear Mary, if you have any further 
 word of advice for me before I go ?" 
 
 " Yes, uncle," replied Mary quite calmly. " I advise 
 you not to lose so much of of your money, or to sit 
 up so late at night, which, you know, never agrees with 
 you. Also, I wish you wouldn't abuse Morris for 
 nothing, because he doesn't deserve it, and I don't like 
 it ; and if we are all to live together after I am married,
 
 BEAU LIEU 85 
 
 it will be so much more comfortable if we can come to 
 an understanding first." 
 
 Then muttering something beneath his breath about 
 ladies in general and this young lady in particular, the 
 Colonel departed with speed. 
 
 Mary sat down in an armchair, and fanned herself 
 with a pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 " Thinking of the right thing to say always makes me 
 hot," she remarked. 
 
 " Well, if by the right thing you mean the strong 
 thing, you certainly discovered it," replied Morris, look- 
 ing at her with affectionate admiration. 
 
 "I know; but it had to be done, dear. He's losing 
 a lot of money, which is mere waste " here Morris 
 groaned, but asked no questions " besides," and her 
 voice became earnest, " I will not have him talking to 
 you like that. The fact that one man is the father of 
 another man doesn't give him the right to abuse him 
 like a pickpocket. Also, if you are so good that you 
 put up with it, I have myself to consider that is, if we 
 are all to live as a happy family. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " Perfectly," said Morris. " I daresay you are right, 
 but I hate rows." 
 
 " So do I, and that is why I have accepted one or 
 two challenges to single combat quite at the beginning 
 of things. You mark my words, he will be like a lamb 
 at breakfast to-morrow." 
 
 " You shouldn't speak disrespectfully of my father ; 
 at any rate, to me," suggested the old-fashioned Morris, 
 rather mildly. 
 
 " No, dear, and when I have learnt to respect him I 
 promise you that I won't. There, don't be vexed with
 
 86 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 me ; but my uncle Richard makes me cross, and then I 
 scratch. As he said the other day, all women are like 
 cats, you know. When they are young they play, when 
 they get old they use their claws I quote uncle Rich- 
 ard and although I am not old yet, I can't help show- 
 ing the claws. Dad is ill, that is the fact of it, Morris, 
 and it gets upon my nerves." 
 
 " I thought he was better, love." 
 
 " Yes, he is better ; he may live for years ; I hope and 
 believe that he will, but it is terribly uncertain. And 
 now, look here, Morris, why don't you go home ? " 
 
 " Do you want to get rid of me, love ? " he asked, 
 looking up. 
 
 " No, I don't. You know that, I am sure. But what 
 is the use of your stopping here ? There is nothing for 
 you to do, and I feel that you are wasting your time 
 and that you hate it. Tell the truth. Don't you long 
 to be back at Monksland, working at that aerophone ? " 
 
 " I should be glad to get on with my experiments, 
 but I don't like leaving you," he answered. 
 
 " But you had better leave me for a while. It is not 
 comfortable for you idling here, particularly when your 
 father is in this uncertain temper. If all be well, in 
 another couple of months or so we shall come together 
 for good, and be able to make our own arrangements, 
 according to circumstances. Till then, if I were you, I 
 should go home, especially as I find I can get on with 
 my uncle much better when you are not here." 
 
 " Then what is to happen after we marry, and I can't 
 be sent away ? " 
 
 " Who knows ? But if we are not comfortable at 
 Monk's Abbey, we can always set up for ourselves with
 
 BEAU LIEU 87 
 
 Dad at Seaview, for instance. He's peaceable enough ; 
 besides, he must be looked after ; and, to be frank, my 
 uncle hectors him, poor dear." 
 
 " I will think it over," said Morris. " And now come 
 for a walk on the beach, and we will forget all these 
 worries." 
 
 Next morning the Colonel appeared at breakfast in a 
 perfectly angelic frame of mind, having to all appear- 
 ance utterly forgotten the " contretemps" of the previous 
 afternoon. Perhaps this was policy, or perhaps the 
 fact of his having won several hundred pounds the 
 night before mollified his mood. At least it had become 
 genial, and he proved a most excellent companion. 
 
 "Look here, old fellow," he said to Morris, throwing 
 him a letter across the table ; " if you have nothing to 
 do for a week or so, I wish you would save an aged 
 parent a journey and settle up this job with Simpkins." 
 
 Morris read the letter. It had to do with the com- 
 plete reerection of a set of buildings on the Abbey farm, 
 and the putting up of a certain drainage mill. Over 
 this question differences had arisen between the agent 
 Simpkins and the rural authorities, who alleged that the 
 said mill would interfere with an established right of 
 way. Indeed, things had come to such a point that if 
 a lawsuit was to be avoided the presence of a principal 
 was necessary. 
 
 "Simpkins is a quarrelsome ass," explained the 
 Colonel, " and somebody will have to smooth those fel- 
 lows down. Will you go ? because if you won't I must, 
 and I don't want to break into the first pleasant holiday 
 I have had for five years thanks to your kindness, my 
 dear John."
 
 88 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " Certainly I will go, if necessary," answered Morris. 
 " But I thought you told me a few months ago that it 
 was quite impossible to execute those alterations, on 
 account of the expense." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; but I have consulted with your uncle here, 
 and the matter has been arranged. Hasn't it, John ? " 
 
 Mr. Person was seated at the end of the table, and 
 Morris, looking at him, noticed with a shock how old he 
 had suddenly become. His plump, cheerful face had 
 fallen in; the cheeks were quite hollow now; his jaws 
 seemed to protrude, and the skin upon his bald head to 
 be drawn quite tight like the parchment on a drum. 
 
 " Of course, of course, Colonel," he answered, lifting 
 his chin from his breast, upon which it was resting, 
 "arranged, quite satisfactorily arranged." Then he 
 looked about rather vacantly, for his mind, it was clear, 
 was far away, and added, " Do you want : I mean, 
 were you talking about the new drainage mill for the 
 salt marshes ? " Mary interrupted and explained. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; how stupid of me ! I am afraid I am 
 getting a little deaf, and this air makes me so sleepy 
 in the morning. Now, just tell me again, what is it? " 
 
 Mary explained further. 
 
 " Morris to go and see about it. Well, why shouldn't 
 he ? It doesn't take long to get home nowadays. Not 
 but that we shall be sorry to lose you, my dear boy ; or, 
 at least, one of us will be sorry," and he tried to wink 
 in his old jovial fashion, and chuckled feebly. 
 
 Mary saw and sighed; while the Colonel shook his 
 head portentously. Nobody could play the part of 
 Job's comforter to greater perfection. 
 
 The end of it was that, after a certain space of hesi-
 
 BEAU LIEU 89 
 
 tation, Morris agreed to go. This " me'nage " at Beaulieu 
 oppressed him, and he hated the place. Besides, Mary, 
 seeing that he was worried, almost insisted on his 
 departure. 
 
 " If I want you back I will send for you," she said. 
 " Go to your work, dear; you will be happier." 
 
 So he kissed her fondly and went as he was fated 
 to go. 
 
 " Good-bye, my dear son," said Mr. Person some- 
 times he called him his son, now. " I hope that I shall 
 see you again soon, and if I don't, you will be kind to 
 my daughter Mary, won't you ? You understand, every- 
 body else is dead my wife is dead, my boy is dead, and 
 soon I shall be dead. So naturally I think a good deal 
 about her. You will be kind to her, won't you ? Good- 
 bye, my son, and don't trouble about money ; there's 
 plenty."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER 
 
 MORRIS arrived home in safety, and speedily settled 
 the question of the drainage mill to the satisfaction of 
 all concerned. But he did not return to Beaulieu. To 
 begin with, although the rural authorities ceased to 
 trouble them, his father was most urgent that he should 
 stay and supervise the putting up of the new farm build- 
 ings, and wrote to him nearly every day to this effect. 
 It occurred to his son that under the circumstances he 
 might have come to look after the buildings himself; 
 also, that perhaps he found the villa at Beaulieu more 
 comfortable without his presence ; a conjecture in which 
 he was perfectly correct. 
 
 Upon the first point, also, letters from Mary soon 
 enlightened him. It appeared that shortly after his 
 departure Sir Jonah, in a violent fit of rage, brought on 
 by drink and a remark of his wife's that had she mar- 
 ried Colonel Monk she "would have been a happy 
 woman," burst a small blood-vessel in his head, with 
 the strange result that from a raging animal of a man 
 he had been turned into an amiable and perfectly 
 harmless imbecile. Under so trying a domestic blow, 
 naturally, Mary explained, Colonel Monk felt it to be 
 his duty to support and comfort his old friend to the 
 best of his ability. "This," added Mary, "he does for 
 
 90
 
 THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER 91 
 
 about three hours every day. I believe, indeed, that a 
 place is always laid for him at meals, while poor Sir 
 Jonah, for whom I feel quite sorry, although he was 
 such a horrid man, sits in an armchair and smiles at 
 him continually." 
 
 So Morris determined to take the advice which Mary 
 gave him very plainly, and abandoned all idea of return- 
 ing to Beaulieu, at any rate, on this side of Christmas. His 
 plans settled, he went to work with a will, and was soon 
 deeply absorbed in the manufacture of experimental 
 receivers made from the new substance. So completely, 
 indeed, did these possess his mind that, as Mary at last 
 complained, his letters to her might with equal fitness 
 have been addressed to an electrical journal, since from 
 them even diagrams were not lacking. 
 
 So things went on until the event occurred which was 
 destined profoundly and mysteriously to affect the lives 
 of Morris and his affianced wife. That event was the 
 shipwreck of the steam tramp, Trondhjem, upon the well- 
 known Sunk Rocks outside the Sands which run parallel 
 to the coast at a distance of about five knots from the 
 Monksland cliff. In this year of our story, about the 
 middle of November, the weather set in very mild 
 and misty. It was the third of these " roky " nights, 
 and the sea-fog poured along the land like vapour from 
 an opened jar of chemicals. Morris was experimenting at 
 the forge in his workshop very late or, rather early, for 
 it was near to two o'clock in the morning when of a 
 sudden through the open window, rising from the quiet 
 sea beneath, he heard the rattle of oars in rowlocks. 
 Wondering what a boat could be doing so near inshore 
 at a season when there was no night fishing, he went to
 
 92 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 the window to listen. Presently he caught the sound of 
 voices shouting in a tongue with which he was unac- 
 quainted, followed by another sound, that of a boat being 
 beached upon the shingle immediately below the Abbey. 
 Now guessing that something unusual must have hap- 
 pened, Morris took his hat and coat, and, unlocking the 
 Abbot's door, lit a lantern, and descended the cement 
 steps to the beach. Here he found himself in the midst 
 of ten or twelve men, most of them tall and bearded, who 
 were gathered about a ship's boat which they had 
 dragged up high and dry. One of these men, whom 
 from his uniform he judged to be the captain, approached 
 and addressed him in a language that he did not under- 
 stand, but imagined must be Danish or Norwegian. 
 
 Morris shook his head to convey the blankness of 
 his ignorance, whereupon other men addressed him, also 
 in northern tongues. Then, as he still shook his head, 
 a lad of about nineteen came forward and spoke in 
 broken and barbarous French. 
 
 "Naufrag6 la bas, " he said; "bateau a vapeur, 
 naufrage sur les rochers brouillard. Nous chappe." 
 
 "Tous?" asked Morris. 
 
 The young man shrugged his shoulders as though he 
 were doubtful on the point, then added, pointing to the 
 boat : 
 
 " Homme beaucoup bless6, pasteur anglais." 
 
 Morris went to the cutter, and, holding up the lantern, 
 looked down, to find an oldish man with sharp features, 
 dark eyes, and grizzled beard, lying under a tarpaulin in 
 the bottom of the boat He was clothed only in a dressing- 
 gown and a blood-stained nightshirt, groaning and semi- 
 unconscious.
 
 THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER 93 
 
 "Jambe cass6, beaucoup mal casse," explained the 
 French scholar. 
 
 "Apportez-le vite apres moi," said Morris. This 
 order having been translated by the youth, several stal- 
 wart sailors lifted up the injured man, and, placing the 
 tarpaulin beneath him, took hold of it by the sides and 
 corners. Then, following Morris, they bore him as 
 gently as they could up the steps into the Abbey to a 
 large bedroom upon the first floor, where they laid him 
 upon the bed. 
 
 Meanwhile, by the industrious ringing of bells as 
 they went, Morris had succeeded in rousing a groom, 
 a page-boy, and the cook. The first of these he sent off 
 post haste for Dr. Charters. Next, having directed the 
 cook to give the foreign sailormen some food and beer, 
 he told the page-boy to conduct them to the Sailors' 
 Home, a place of refuge provided, as is common upon 
 this stormy coast, for the accommodation of distressed 
 and shipwrecked mariners. As he could extract nothing 
 further, it seemed useless to detain them at the Abbey. 
 Then, pending the arrival of the doctor, with the assist- 
 ance of the old housekeeper, he set to work to examine 
 the patient. This did not take long, for his injuries 
 were obvious. The right thigh was broken and badly 
 bruised, and he bled from a contusion upon the forehead. 
 This wound upon his head seemed also to have affected 
 his brain ; at any rate, he was unable to speak coherently, 
 or to do more than mutter something about "shipwreck" 
 and " steamer Trondhjem," and to ask for water. 
 
 Thinking that at least it could do no harm, Morris 
 gave him a cup of soup, which had been hastily pre- 
 pared. Just as the patient had finished drinking it,
 
 94 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 which he did eagerly, the doctor arrived, and after a 
 swift examination administered some anaesthetic, and got 
 to work to set the broken limb. 
 
 " It's a bad smash very bad," he explained to Morris; 
 "something must have fallen on him, I think. If it had 
 been an inch or two higher, he'd have lost his leg, or his 
 life, or both, as perhaps he will now. At the best it 
 means a couple of months or so on his back. No, I 
 think the cut on his head isn't serious, although it has 
 knocked him silly for a while." 
 
 At length the horrid work was done, and the doctor, 
 who had to return to a confinement case in the village, 
 departed. Before he went he told Morris that he hoped 
 to be back by five o'clock. He promised also that be- 
 fore his return he would call in at the Sailors' Home to 
 see that the crew were comfortable, and discover what 
 he could of the details of the catastrophe. Meanwhile 
 for his part, Morris undertook to watch in the sick-room. 
 
 For nearly three hours, while the drug retained its 
 grip of him, the patient remained comatose. All this 
 while Morris sat at his bedside wondering who he might 
 be, and what curious circumstance could have brought 
 him into the company of these rough Northmen sailors. 
 To his profession he had a clue, although no sure one, for 
 round his neck the man wore a silver cross suspended 
 by a chain. This suggested that he might be a clergy- 
 man, and went far to confirm the broken talk of the 
 French-speaking sailor. Clearly, also, he was a person 
 of some breeding and position, the refinement of his 
 face and the delicacy of his hands showed as much. 
 While Morris was watching and wondering, suddenly the 
 man awoke, and began to talk in a confused fashion.
 
 THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER 95 
 
 " Where am I ? " he asked. 
 
 " At Monksland," answered Morris. 
 
 "That's all right, that's where I should be, but the 
 ship, the ship" then a pause and a cry: "Stella, 
 Stella!" 
 
 Morris pricked his ears. " Where is Stella ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " On the rocks. She struck, then darkness, all dark- 
 ness. Stella, come here, Stella ! " 
 
 A memory awoke in the mind of Morris, and he leant 
 over the patient, who again had sunk into delirium. 
 
 " Do you mean Stella Fregelius ? " he asked. 
 
 The man turned his flushed face and opened his dark 
 eyes. 
 
 "Of course, Stella Fregelius who else? There is 
 only one Stella," and again he became incoherent. 
 
 For a while Morris plied him with further questions ; 
 but as he could obtain no coherent answer, he gave him 
 his medicine and left him quiet. Then for another 
 half-hour or so he sat and watched, while a certain theory 
 took shape in his mind. This gentleman must be the 
 new rector. It seemed as though, probably accompanied 
 by his daughter, he had taken passage in a Danish tramp 
 boat bound for Northwold, which had touched at some 
 Northumbrian port. Morris knew that the incoming 
 clergyman had a daughter, for, now that he thought of 
 it he had heard Mr. Tomley mention the fact at the 
 dinner-party on the night when he became engaged. 
 Yes, and certainly she was named Stella. But there 
 was no woman among those who had come to land, and 
 he understood the injured man to suggest that his daugh- 
 ter had been left upon the steamer which was said to
 
 96 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 have gone ashore upon some rocks ; or, perhaps, upon 
 the Sunk Rocks themselves. 
 
 Now, the only rocks within twenty miles of them were 
 these famous Sunk Rocks, about six knots away. Even 
 within his own lifetime four vessels had been lost there, 
 either because they had missed, or mistaken, the light- 
 ship signal further out to sea, as sometimes happened 
 in a fog such as prevailed this night, or through false 
 reckonings. The fate of all these vessels had been 
 identical ; they had struck upon the reef, rebounded or 
 slid off, and foundered in deep water. Probably in this 
 case the same thing had happened. At least, the facts, so 
 far as he knew them, pointed to that conclusion. Evi- 
 dently the escape of the crew had been very hurried, 
 for they had saved nothing. He judged also that the 
 clergyman, Mr. Fregelius, having rushed on deck, had 
 been injured by the fall of some spar or block consequent 
 upon the violence of the impact of the vessel upon the 
 reef, and in this hurt condition had been thrown into the 
 boat by the sailors. 
 
 Then where was the daughter Stella ? Was she killed 
 in the same fashion or drowned ? Probably one or the 
 other. But there was a third bare possibility, which did 
 no credit to the crew, that she had been forgotten in the 
 panic and hurry, and left behind on the sinking ship. 
 
 At first Morris thought of rousing the captain of the 
 lifeboat. On reflection, however, he abandoned this 
 idea, for really what had he to go on beyond the scanty 
 and disjointed ravings of a delirious man ? Very pos- 
 sibly the girl Stella was not upon the ship at all. Prob- 
 ably, also, hours ago that vessel had vanished from the 
 eyes of men for ever. To send out the lifeboat upon
 
 THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER 97 
 
 such a wild-goose chase would be to turn himself into a 
 laughing-stock. 
 
 Still something drew his thoughts to that hidden line 
 of reef, and the ship which might still be hanging on it, 
 and the woman who might still be living in the ship. 
 
 It was a painful vision from which he could not free 
 his mind. 
 
 Then there came to him an idea. Why should he not 
 go to the Sunk Rocks and look ? There was a light 
 breeze off land, and with the help of the page-boy, who 
 was sitting up, as the tide was nearing its full he could 
 manage to launch his small sailing-boat, which by good 
 fortune was still berthed near the beach steps. It was 
 a curious chance that this should be so, seeing that in 
 most seasons she would have been by now removed to 
 the shed a mile away, to be out of reach of possible dam- 
 age from the furious winter gales. As it happened, 
 however, the weather remaining so open, this had not 
 been done. Further, the codlings having begun to run 
 in unusual numbers, as is common upon this coast in 
 late autumn, Morris that very morning had taken the 
 boat out to fish for them, an amusement which he pro- 
 posed to resume on the morrow in the hope of better 
 sport. Therefore the boat had her sails on board, and 
 was in every way ready for sea. 
 
 Why should he not go? For one reason only that he 
 could suggest. There was a certain amount of risk in 
 sailing about the Sunk Rocks in a fog, even for a tiny 
 craft like his, for here the currents were very sharp ; also, 
 in many places the points of the rocks were only just 
 beneath the surface of the water. But he knew the 
 dangerous places well enough if he could see them,
 
 98 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 as he ought to be able to do, for the dawn should break 
 before he arrived. And, after all, what was a risk more 
 or less in life ? He would go. He felt impelled 
 strangely impelled to go, though of course it was all 
 nonsense, and probably he would be back by nine 
 o'clock, having seen nothing at all. 
 
 By this time the injured Mr. Fregelius had sunk into 
 sleep or stupor, doubtless beneath the influence of the 
 second draught which he had administered to him in 
 obedience to the doctor's orders. On his account, there- 
 fore, Morris had no anxiety, since the cook, a steady, 
 middle-aged woman, could watch by him for the present. 
 
 He called her and gave her instructions, bidding her 
 tell the doctor when he came that he had gone to see if 
 he could make out anything more about the wreck, and 
 that he would be back soon. Then, ordering the page- 
 boy, a stout lad, to accompany him, he descended the 
 steps, and together, with some difficulty, they succeeded 
 in launching the boat. Now for a moment Morris hesi- 
 tated, wondering whether he should take the young man 
 with him ; but remembering that this journey was not 
 without its dangers, finally he decided to go alone. 
 
 " I am just going to have a sail round, Thomas, to 
 look if I can make out anything about that ship." 
 
 "Yes, sir," remarked Thomas, doubtfully. " But it is 
 rather a queer time to hunt for her, and in this sea-haze 
 too, especially round the Sunk Rocks. Shall I leave the 
 lunch basket in the locker, sir, or take it up to the 
 house ? " 
 
 " Leave it ; it wasn't touched to-day, and I might be 
 glad of some breakfast," Morris answered. Then, hav- 
 ing hoisted his sail, he sat himself in the stern, with the
 
 THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER 99 
 
 tiller in one hand and the sheet in the other. Instantly 
 the water began to lap gently against the bow, and in 
 another minute he glided away from the sight of the 
 doubting Thomas, vanishing like some sea-ghost into 
 the haze and that chill darkness which precedes the 
 dawn. 
 
 It was very dark, and the mist was very damp, and 
 the wind, what there was of it, very cold, especially as 
 in his hurry he had forgotten to bring a thick ulster, 
 and had nothing but a covert coat and a thin oil-skin 
 to wear. Moreover, he could not see in the least where 
 he was going, or do more than lay his course for the 
 Sunk Rocks by means of the boat's compass, which he 
 consulted from time to time by the help of a bull's-eye 
 lantern. 
 
 This went on for nearly an hour, by the end of which 
 Morris began to wonder why he had started upon such 
 a fool's errand. Also, he was growing alarmed. He 
 knew that by now he should be in the neighbourhood 
 of the reef, and fancied, indeed, that he could hear the 
 water lapping against its rocks. Accordingly, as this 
 reef was ill company in the dark, Morris hauled down 
 his sail, and in case he should have reached the shallows, 
 threw out his little anchor, which was attached to six 
 fathoms of chain. At first it swung loose ; but four or 
 five minutes later, the boat having been carried onward 
 into fleeter water by the swift current that was one of 
 the terrors of the Sunk Rocks, it touched bottom, 
 dragged a little, and held fast. 
 
 Morris gave a sigh of relief, for that blind journey 
 among unknown dangers was neither safe nor pleasant. 
 Now, at least, in this quiet weather he could lie where
 
 100 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 he was till the light came, praying that a wind might 
 not come first. Already the cold November dawn was 
 breaking in the east ; he was able to see the reflection 
 of it upon the fog, and the surface of the water, black 
 and oily-looking, became visible as it swept past the 
 sides of his boat. Now, too, he was sure that the rocks 
 must be close at hand, for he could hear the running 
 tide distinctly as it washed against them and through 
 the dense growth of seaweed that clung to their crests 
 and ridges. 
 
 Presently, too, he heard something else, which at first 
 caused him to rub his eyes in the belief that he must 
 have fallen asleep and dreamt ; nothing less, indeed, than 
 the sound of a woman's voice. He began to reason 
 with himself. What was there strange in this ? He 
 was told, or had inferred, that a woman had been left 
 upon a ship. Doubtless this was she, upon some rock 
 or raft, perhaps. Only then she would have been crying 
 for help, and this voice was singing, and in a strange 
 tongue, more sweetly than he had heard woman sing 
 before. 
 
 It was incredible, it was impossible. What woman 
 would sing in a winter daybreak upon the Sunk Rocks 
 sing like the siren of old fable ? Yet, there, quite close 
 to him, over the quiet sea rose the song, strong, clear, 
 and thrilling. Once it ceased, then began again in a 
 deeper, more triumphant note, such a chant as a 
 Valkyrie might have sung as she led some Norn-doomed 
 host to their last battle. 
 
 Morris sat and listened with parted lips and eyes 
 staring at the fleecy mist. He did not move or call out, 
 because he was certain that he must be the victim of
 
 THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER IOI 
 
 some hallucination, bred of fog, or of fatigue, or of cold ; 
 and, as it was very strange and moving, he had no desire 
 to break in upon its charm. 
 
 So there he sat while the triumphant, splendid song 
 rolled and thrilled above him, and by degrees the grey 
 light of morning grew to right and left. To right and 
 left it grew, but, strangely enough, although he never 
 noted it at the time, he and his boat lay still steeped in 
 shadow. Then of a sudden there was a change. 
 
 A puff of wind from the north seemed to catch the fog 
 and roll it up like a curtain, so that instantly all the sea 
 became visible, broken here and there by round-headed, 
 weed-draped rocks. Out of the east also poured a flood 
 of light from the huge ball of the rising sun, and now it 
 was that Morris learned why the gloom had been so 
 thick about him, for his boat lay anchored full in the 
 shadow of the lost ship Trondhjem. There, not thirty 
 yards away, rose her great prow; the cutwater, which 
 stood up almost clear, showing that she had forced her- 
 self on to a ridge of rock. There, too, poised at the 
 extreme point of the sloping forecastle, and supporting 
 herself with one hand by a wire rope that ran thence to 
 the foremast, was the woman to whose siren-like song 
 he had been listening. 
 
 At that distance he could see little of her face ; but the 
 new-wakened wind blew the long dark hair about her 
 head, while round her, falling almost to her naked feet, 
 was wrapped a full red cloak. Had Morris wished to 
 draw the picture of a viking's daughter guiding her 
 father's ship into the fray, there, down to the red 
 cloak, bare feet, and flying tresses, stood its perfect 
 model.
 
 102 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 The wild scene gripped his heart. Whoever saw the 
 like of it ? This girl who sang in the teeth of death, the 
 desolate grey face of ocean, the brown and hungry 
 rocks, the huge, abandoned ship, and over all the angry 
 rays of a winter sunrise. 
 
 Thus, out of the darkness of the winter night, out of 
 the bewildering white mists of the morning, did this 
 woman arise upon his sight, this strange new star begin 
 to shine upon his life and direct his destiny. 
 
 At the moment that he saw her she seemed to see him. 
 At any rate, she ceased her ringing, defiant song, and, 
 leaning over the netting rail, stared downwards. 
 
 Morris began to haul at his anchor ; but, though he was 
 a strong man, at first he could not lift it. Just as he 
 was thinking of slipping the cable, however, the little 
 flukes came loose from the sand or weeds in which they 
 were embedded, and with toil and trouble he got it 
 shipped. Then he took a pair of sculls and rowed until 
 he was nearly under the prow of the Trondhjem. It 
 was he, too, who spoke first. 
 
 " You must come to me," he called. 
 
 " Yes," the woman answered, leaning over the rail ; " I 
 will come, but how ? Shall I jump into the water ? " 
 
 " No," he said, " it is too dangerous. You might strike 
 against a rock or be taken by the current. The com- 
 panion ladder seems to be down on the starboard side. 
 Go aft to it, I will row round the ship and meet you there." 
 
 She nodded her head, and Morris started on his jour- 
 ney. It proved perilous. To begin with, there were 
 rocks all about. Also, here the tide or the current, or 
 both, ran with the speed of a mill-race, so that in places 
 the sea bubbled and swirled like a boiling kettle. How-
 
 THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER 103 
 
 ever skilled and strong he might be, it was hard for one 
 man to deal with such difficulties and escape disaster. 
 Still following the port side of the ship, since owing to 
 the presence of certain rocks he dared not attempt the 
 direct starboard passage, he came at last to her stern. 
 Then he saw how imminent was the danger, for the 
 poop of the vessel, which seemed to be of about a thou- 
 sand tons burden, was awash and water-logged, but roll- 
 ing and lifting beneath the pressure of the tide as it 
 drew on to flood. 
 
 To Morris, who had lived all his life by the sea, and 
 understood such matters, it was plain that presently she 
 would float, or be torn off the point of the rock on which 
 she hung, broken-backed, and sink in the hundred-fathom- 
 deep water which lay beyond the reef. There was no 
 time to spare, and he laboured at his oars fiercely, till at 
 length, partly by skill and partly by good fortune, he 
 reached the companion ladder and fastened to it with 
 a boat-hook. 
 
 Now no woman was to be seen ; she had vanished. 
 Morris called and called, but could get no answer, while 
 the great dead carcass of the ship rolled and laboured 
 above, its towering mass of iron threatening to fall and 
 crush him and his tiny craft to nothingness. He shouted 
 and shouted again ; then in despair lashed his boat to the 
 companion, and ran up the ladder. 
 
 Where could she have gone ? He hurried forward 
 along the heaving, jerking deck to the main hatchway. 
 Here he hesitated for a moment ; then, knowing that, if 
 anywhere, she must be below, set his teeth and descended. 
 The saloon was a foot deep in water, which washed from 
 side to side with a heavy, sickening splash, and there,
 
 104 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 carrying a bag in one hand, holding up her garments 
 with the other, and wading toward him from the dry 
 upper part of the cabin, at last he found the lady whom 
 he sought. 
 
 " Be quick ! " he shouted ; " for God's sake, be quick ! 
 The ship is coming off the rock." 
 
 She splashed towards him ; now he had her by the 
 hand ; now they were on the deck, and now he was 
 dragging her after him down the companion ladder. 
 They reached the boat, and just as the vessel gave a 
 great roll towards them, Morris seized the oars and rowed 
 like a madman. 
 
 " Help me ! " he gasped ; " the current is against us." 
 And, sitting opposite to him, she placed her hands upon 
 his hands, pressing forward as he pulled. Her slight 
 strength made a difference, and the boat forged ahead 
 thirty, forty, seventy yards till they reached a rock 
 to which, exhausted, he grappled with a hook.bidding her 
 hold on to the floating seaweed. Thus they rested for 
 thirty seconds, perhaps, when she spoke for the first time : 
 
 " Look ! " she said. 
 
 As she spoke the steamer slid and lifted off the reef. 
 For a few moments she wallowed ; then suddenly her 
 stern settled, her prow rose slowly in the air till it stood 
 up straight, fifty or sixty feet of it. Then, with a ma- 
 jestic, but hideous rush, down went the Trondhjem and 
 vanished for ever. 
 
 All round about her the sea boiled and foamed, while in 
 the great hollow which she made on the face of the waters 
 black lumps of wreckage appeared and disappeared. 
 
 " Tight ! hold tight ! " he cried, " or she will suck us 
 after her."
 
 THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER 105 
 
 Suck she did, till the water poured over the gunwale. 
 Then, the worst passed, and the boat rose again. The 
 foam bubbles burst or floated away in little snowy 
 heaps ; the sea resumed its level, and, save for the float- 
 ing debris, became as it had been for thousands of 
 years before the lost Trondhjem rushed downward to 
 its depths. 
 
 Now, for the first time, knowing the immediate peril 
 past, Morris looked at the face of his companion. It 
 was a fine face, and beautiful in its way. Dark eyes, 
 very large and perfect, whereof the pupils seemed to 
 expand and contract in answer to every impulse of the 
 thoughts within. Above the eyes long curving lashes 
 and delicately pencilled, arched eyebrows, and above 
 them again a forehead low and broad. The chin 
 rounded ; the lips full, rich, and sensitive ; the com- 
 plexion of a clear and beautiful pallor ; the ears tiny ; 
 the hands delicate ; the figure slim, of medium height, 
 and alive with grace ; the general effect most uncommon, 
 and, without being lovely, breathing a curious power and 
 personality. 
 
 Such was the woman whom he had saved from 
 death. 
 
 "Oh, how splendid ! " she said in her deep voice, and 
 clasping her hands. " What a death ! For ship or man, 
 what a death ! And after it the great calm sea, taking 
 and ready to take for ever." 
 
 " Thank Heaven that it did not take you," answered 
 Morris wrathfully. 
 
 " Why ? " she answered 
 
 " Because you are still alive, who by now would have 
 been dead."
 
 106 STELLA F REG ELI US 
 
 " It seems that it was not fated this time," she 
 answered, adding : " The next it may be different." 
 
 "Yes," he said reflectively; "the next it may be 
 different, Miss Fregelius." 
 
 She started. " How do you know my name ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " From your father's lips. He is ashore at my house. 
 The sailors must have seen the light in my workshop 
 and steered for it." 
 
 " My father ? " she gasped. " He is still alive ? But, 
 oh, how is that possible ? He would never have left 
 me." 
 
 " Yes, he lives, but with a broken thigh and his head 
 cut open. He was brought ashore senseless, so you 
 need not be ashamed of him. Those sailors are the 
 cowards." 
 
 She sighed, as though in deep relief. " I am very 
 glad. I had made up my mind that he must be dead, 
 for of course I knew that he would never have left me 
 otherwise. It did not occur to me that he might be 
 carried away senseless. Is he " and she paused, then 
 added : " tell me the worst quick." 
 
 "No; the doctor thinks in no danger at present; 
 only a break of the thigh and a scalp wound. Of 
 course, he could not help himself, for he can have 
 known no more than a corpse of what was passing," he 
 went on. "It is those sailors who are to blame for 
 leaving you on the ship, I mean." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders contemptuously. 
 
 "The sailors! From such rough men one does not 
 expect much. They had little time, and thought of them- 
 selves, not of a passenger, whom they had scarcely seen.
 
 THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER IO? 
 
 Thank God they did not leave my father behind 
 also." 
 
 "You do not thank God for yourself," said Morris 
 curiously, as he prepared to hoist the sail, for his mind 
 harked back to his old wonderment. 
 
 " Yes, I do, but it was not His will that I should die 
 last night. I have told you that it was not fated," she 
 answered. 
 
 " Quite so. That is evident now ; but were I in your 
 case this really remarkable escape would make me 
 wonder what is fated." 
 
 " Yes, it does a little ; but not too much, for you see I 
 shall learn in time. You might as well wonder how it 
 happened that you arrived to save me, and to what end." 
 
 Morris hesitated, for this was a new view of the case, 
 before he answered. 
 
 "That your life should be saved, I suppose." 
 
 "And why should it happen that your boat should 
 come to save me ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; chance, I suppose." 
 
 " Neither do I ; but I don't believe in chance. Every- 
 thing has its meaning and purpose." 
 
 " Only one so seldom finds it out. Life is too short, 
 I suppose," replied Morris. 
 
 By now the sail was up, the boat was drawing 
 ahead, and he was seated at her side holding the tiller. 
 
 "Why did you go down into the saloon, Miss 
 Fregelius?" he asked presently. 
 
 She glanced at herself, and now, for the first time, he 
 noticed that she wore a dress beneath her red cloak, and 
 that there were slippers on her feet, which had been 
 bare.
 
 108 STELLA FREGEHUS 
 
 " I could not come into the boat as I was," she ex- 
 plained, dropping her eyes. "The costume which is 
 good enough to be drowned in is not fitted for company. 
 My cabin was well forward, and I guessed that by wad- 
 ing I could reach it. Also, I had some trinkets and one 
 or two books I did not wish to lose," and she nodded 
 at the hand-bag which she had thrown into the boat. 
 
 Morris smiled. " It is very nice of you to pay so 
 much respect to appearances," he said ; "but I suppose 
 you forgot that the vessel might come off the rocks at 
 any moment and crush me, who was waiting." 
 
 " Oh, no," she answered ; " I thought of it. I have 
 always been accustomed to the sea, and know about 
 such things." 
 
 " And still you went for your dress and your trinkets ? " 
 
 " Yes, because I was certain that it wouldn't happen 
 and that no harm would come to either of us by waiting 
 a few minutes." 
 
 " Indeed, and who told you that ? " 
 
 " I don't know, but from the moment that I saw you 
 in the boat I was certain that the danger was done with 
 at least, the immediate danger," she added.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Miss FREGELIUS 
 
 WHILE Miss Fregelius was speaking, Morris had been 
 staring at the sail, which, after drawing for a time in an 
 indifferent fashion, had begun to flap aimlessly. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " asked his companion. " Has 
 the wind veered again ? " 
 
 He nodded. " Dead from the west, now, and rising 
 fast. I hope that your spirit of prophecy still speaks 
 smooth things, for, upon my word, I believe we are 
 both of us in a worse mess than ever." 
 
 " Can't we row ashore ? It is only a few miles, is it ? " 
 
 " We can try, but I am afraid we are in for a regular 
 tearer. We get them sometimes on this coast after a 
 spell of calm weather." 
 
 " Please give me an oar," she said. " I am used to 
 rowing of a sort." 
 
 So he let down the sail, and they began to row. For 
 ten minutes or so they struggled against the ever-rising 
 gale. Then Morris called to her to ship oars. 
 
 " It is no use exhausting ourselves, Miss Fregelius," 
 he said, "for now the tide is on the ebb, and dead 
 against us, as well as the wind." 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " she asked. 
 
 Morris glanced back to where a mile behind them the 
 sea was beginning to foam ominously over the Sunk 
 
 109
 
 1 10 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Rocks, here and there throwing up isolated jets of spray, 
 like those caused by the blowing of a whale. 
 
 " I am going to try to clear them," he said, " and 
 then run before it. Perhaps we might make the Far 
 Lightship five and twenty miles away. Help me to pull 
 up the sail. So, that's enough ; she can't stand too 
 much. Now hold the sheet, and if I bid you, let go 
 that instant. I'll steer." 
 
 A few seconds later the boat's head had come round, 
 and she was rushing through the water at great speed, 
 parallel with the line of the Sunk Rocks, but being 
 momentarily driven nearer to them. The girl, Stella 
 Fregelius, stared at the farthest point of foam which 
 marked the end of the reef. 
 
 " You must hold her up if you want to clear it," she 
 said quietly. 
 
 " I can't do any more in this wind," he answered. 
 " You seem to know about boats ; you will understand." 
 
 She nodded, and on they rushed, the ever-freshening 
 gale on their beam. 
 
 "This boat sails well," said Stella, as a little water 
 trickled over the gunwale. 
 
 Morris made no answer, his eyes were fixed upon 
 the point of rock; only bidding his companion hold 
 the tiller, he did something to the sail. Now they 
 were not more than five hundred yards away. 
 
 " It will be a very near thing," she said. 
 
 " Very," he answered, " and I don't want to be offi- 
 cious, but I suggest that you might do well to say 
 your prayers." 
 
 She looked at him, and bowed her head for a minute 
 or so. Then suddenly she lifted it again and stared
 
 MISS FREGELIUS III 
 
 at the terror ahead of them with wide, unflinching 
 eyes. 
 
 On sped the boat while more and more did tide and 
 gale turn her prow into the reef. At the end of it a 
 large, humpbacked rock showed now and again through 
 the surf, like the fin of a black whale. That was the 
 rock which they must clear if they would live. Morris 
 took the boat-hook and laid it by his side. They were 
 very near now. They would clear it; no, the wash 
 sucked them in like a magnet. 
 
 "Good-bye," said Morris instinctively, but Stella 
 answered nothing. 
 
 The wave that lifted them broke upon the rock in 
 a cloud of spray wherein for some few instants their 
 boat seemed to vanish. They were against it; the 
 boat touched, and Stella felt a long ribbon of seaweed 
 cut her like a whip across the face. Kneeling down, 
 Morris thrust madly with the boat-hook, and thus for 
 an instant just one held her off. His arms doubled 
 beneath the strain, and then came the back-wash. 
 
 Oh, heavens ! it had swept them clear. The rock 
 was behind, the sail drew, and swiftly they fled away 
 from the death that had seemed certain. 
 
 Stella sighed aloud, while Morris wiped the water 
 from his face. 
 
 "Are we clear?" she asked presently. 
 
 " Of the Sunk Rocks ? Yes, we are round them. 
 But the North Sea is in front of us, and what looks 
 like the worst gale that has blown this autumn is rising 
 behind." 
 
 "This is a good sea-boat, and on the open water I 
 think perhaps that we ought to weather it," she said,
 
 112 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 trying to speak cheerfully, as Morris stowed the sail, 
 for in that wind they wanted no canvas. 
 
 " I wish we had something to eat," she added presently ; 
 "I am so hungry." 
 
 " By good luck I can help you there," he answered. 
 "Yesterday I was out fishing and took lunch for 
 myself and the boatman ; but the fish wouldn't bite, so 
 we came back without eating it, and it is still in the 
 locker. Shift a little, please, and I will get the 
 basket." 
 
 She obeyed, and there was the food sure enough, 
 plenty of it. A thick packet of sandwiches, and two 
 boiled eggs, a loaf, and a large lump of cheese for the 
 boatman, a flask of whiskey, a bottle of beer, another of 
 water, and two of soda. They ate up the sandwiches 
 and the eggs, Morris drinking the beer and Stella the 
 soda water, for whiskey as yet she would not touch. 
 
 " Now," she said, "we are still provisioned for twenty- 
 four hours with the bread and cheese, the water and 
 the soda which is left." 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "if we don't sink or die of 
 cold we shall not starve. I never thought that sand- 
 wiches were so good before ; " and he looked hungrily 
 at the loaf. 
 
 " You had better put it away ; you may want it later," 
 she suggested. And he put it away. 
 
 " Tell me, if you don't mind," he asked, for the food 
 and the lightening of the strain upon his nerves had 
 made him conversational, " what is that song which you 
 sang upon the ship, and why did you sing it ? " 
 
 She coloured a little, and smiled, a sweet smile that 
 seemed to begin in her eyes.
 
 MISS F REG ELI US 113 
 
 " It is an old Norse chant which my mother taught 
 me; she was a Dane, as my father is also by descent. 
 It has come down in her family for many, many genera- 
 tions, and the legend is that the women of her race 
 always sang it or repeated it while the men were fight- 
 ing, and, if they had the strength, in the hour of their 
 own death. I believe that is true, for she died whisper- 
 ing it herself ; yes, it grew fainter and fainter until it 
 ceased with her breath. So, when I thought that my 
 hour had come, I sang it also, for the first time, for I 
 tried to be brave, and wished to go as my forebears 
 went. It is a foolish old custom, but I like old customs. 
 I am ashamed that you should have heard it. I thought 
 myself alone. That is all." 
 
 "You are a very strange young lady," said Morris, 
 staring at her. 
 
 " Strange ? " she answered, laughing. " Not at all ; 
 only I wanted to show those scores of dead people that 
 their traditions and spirit still lived on in me, their poor 
 modern child. Think how glad they must have been to 
 hear the old chant as they swept by in the wind just 
 now, waiting to give me welcome." 
 
 Morris stared still harder. Was this beautiful girl 
 mad ? He knew something of the old Norse literature 
 and myths. A fantastic vision rose up in his mind of 
 her forebears, scores and hundreds of them gathered at 
 some ghostly Walhalla feast, listening to the familiar 
 paean as it poured from her fearless heart, and waiting 
 to rise and greet her, the last newcomer of their blood, 
 with " Skoll, daughter, skoll ! " 
 
 She watched him as though she read his thought. 
 
 " You see, they would have been pleased ; it is only
 
 114 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 natural," she said ; " and I have a great respect for 
 the opinion of my ancestors." 
 
 "Then you are sure they still exist in some shape 
 or form, and are conscious ? " 
 
 She laughed again. " Of course I am sure. The 
 world of spirits, as I think, is the real world. The rest 
 is a nightmare; at least, it seems like a nightmare, 
 because we don't know the beginning or the end of 
 the dream." 
 
 "The old Egyptians thought something like that," 
 said Morris reflectively. "They only lived to die." 
 
 " But we," she answered, " should only die to live, 
 and that is why I try not to be afraid. I daresay, how- 
 ever, I mean the same as they did, only you do not seem 
 to put their thought quite clearly." 
 
 " You are right; I meant that for them death was but 
 a door." 
 
 " That is better, I think," she said. " That was their 
 thought, and that is my thought ; and," she added, 
 searching his face, " perhaps your thought also." 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " though somehow you concen- 
 trate it ; I have never seen things, or, rather, this thing, 
 quite so sharply." 
 
 "Because you have never been in a position to see 
 them; they have not been brought home to you. Or your 
 mind may have wanted an interpreter. Perhaps I am 
 that interpreter for the moment." Then she added: 
 " Were you afraid just now ? Don't tell me if you had 
 rather not, only I should like to compare sensations. I 
 was more than on the ship. I admit it." 
 
 " No," he answered ; " I suppose that I was too 
 excited."
 
 MISS FREGELIUS 115 
 
 " What were you thinking of when we bumped against 
 the rocks ? " she asked again. 
 
 " Well, now that you mention it," he replied, rubbing 
 his forehead with his left hand like a man newly 
 awakened, " I could think of nothing but that song of 
 yours, which you sung upon the vessel. Everything 
 grew dark for an instant, and through the darkness I 
 remembered the song." 
 
 " Are you married ? " she asked, as though speaking 
 to herself. 
 
 " No ; I am engaged." 
 
 "Then, why " and she stopped, confused. 
 
 Morris guessed what had been in her mind, and of a 
 sudden felt terribly ashamed. 
 
 " Because of that witch-song of yours," he answered, 
 with a flash of anger, " which made me forget every- 
 thing." 
 
 She smiled and answered. "It wasn't the song; it 
 was the excitement and struggle which blotted out the 
 rest. One does not really think at all at such moments, 
 or so I believe. I know that I didn't, not just when we 
 bumped against the rock. But it is odd that you should 
 believe that you remembered my song, for, according to 
 tradition, that is just what the chant should do, and what 
 it always did. Its ancient name means 'The Over- 
 Lord,' because those who sang it and those who heard 
 it were said to remember nothing else, and to fear noth- 
 ing, not even Death our lord. It is the welcome that 
 they give to death." 
 
 "What egregious nonsense ! " he blurted out. 
 
 " I daresay ; but then, why do you understand my 
 nonsense so well? Tell me, if you will, of what blood 
 are you ? "
 
 Il6 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " Danish, I believe, in the beginning." 
 
 " Oh," she said, laughing, " no doubt that accounts 
 for it. Some forefather of yours may have heard the 
 song of the Over-Lord, perhaps from the lips of some 
 foremother of mine. So, of course, you remembered 
 and understood." 
 
 " Such a thing will scarcely bear argument, will 
 it ? " 
 
 " Of course it won't. I have only been joking all the 
 time, though I do half believe in this old song, as my 
 ancestors did before me. I mean, that as I thought I 
 had to die, I liked to keep up the ancient custom and 
 sing it first. It encouraged my spirits. But where are 
 we going ? " 
 
 " To where our spirits will need no more encourage- 
 ment," he answered grimly ; " or, at least, I fear it may 
 be so. Miss Fregelius, to drop jests, it is blowing very 
 hard off land ; the sea is getting up, and this is but a 
 small boat. We are doing pretty well now, but sooner 
 or later, I fear, and I think it right to tell you, that a 
 wave may poop us and then " 
 
 "There will be an end," said Stella. "Is there any- 
 thing to be done ? Have you any plan ? " 
 
 " None, except to make the Far Lightship, as I told 
 you ; but even if we succeed, I don't know whether it 
 will be possible to get aboard of her unless the sea 
 moderates." 
 
 " Won't the lifeboat come out to look for you ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 He shook his head. " How could they find one tiny 
 sail upon the great ocean ? Moreover, it will be sup- 
 posed either that I have foundered or made some port
 
 MISS FREGELIUS 117 
 
 along the coast. There is the worst of it. I fear that 
 it may be telegraphed everywhere," and he sighed 
 deeply. 
 
 " Why ? " she asked. "Are you a very important per- 
 son that they should bother to do that ? You see," she 
 added in explanation, " I don't even know your name or 
 where you come from, only that you told me you worked 
 in a shop which," she added reflectively, looking at 
 him, "seems odd." 
 
 Even then and there Morris could not help a smile ; 
 really this young lady was very original. 
 
 " No," he answered, " I am not at all important, and I 
 work in a shop because I am an inventor or try to be 
 in the electrical line. My name is Morris Monk, and 
 I am the son of Colonel Monk, and live at the Abbey 
 House, Monksland. Now you know all about me." 
 
 " Oh ! of course I do, Mr. Monk," she said in some 
 confusion, " how foolish of me not to guess. You are 
 my father's principal new parishioner, of whom Mr. 
 Tomley gave us a full description." 
 
 " Did he indeed ? What did he say ? " he asked 
 idly. 
 
 " Do you really want to know, Mr. Monk ? " 
 
 "Yes, if it is amusing. Just now I shall be grateful 
 for anything that can divert my thoughts." 
 
 "And will you promise not to bear malice against 
 Mr. Tomley?" 
 
 "Certainly, especially as he has gone away, and I 
 don't expect to see him any more." 
 
 " Well, he described your father, Colonel Monk, as a 
 handsome and distinguished elderly gentleman of very 
 good birth, and manners, too, when he chose, who in-
 
 Il8 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 tensely disliked growing old. He said that he thought 
 of himself more than of anybody else in the world, and 
 next of the welfare of his family, and that if we wished 
 to get on with him we must be careful not to offend his 
 dignity, as then he would be quarrelsome." 
 
 "That's true enough, or most of it," answered Morris, 
 " a good picture of my father's weak side. And what 
 was his definition of myself ? " 
 
 "He said that you were in his opinion one of the 
 most interesting people that he had ever met ; that you 
 were a dreamer and a mystic ; that you cared for few of 
 the things which usually attract young men, and that 
 you were in practice almost a misogynist. He added 
 that, although heretofore you had not succeeded, he 
 thought that you possessed real genius in certain lines, 
 but that you had not your father's ' courtly air,' that was 
 his term. Of course, I am only repeating, so you must 
 not be angry." 
 
 "Well," said Morris, "I asked for candour and I 
 have got it. Without admitting the accuracy of his 
 definitions, I must say that I never thought that pom- 
 pous old Tomley had so much observation." Then he 
 added quickly, to change the subject, since the possible 
 discussion of his own attributes, physical or mental, 
 alarmed him, "Miss Fregelius, you have not told me 
 how you came to be left upon the ship." 
 
 " Really, Mr. Monk, I don't know. I heard a con- 
 fused noise in my sleep, and when I woke up it was to 
 find myself alone, and the saloon half full of water. I 
 suppose that after the vessel struck, the sailors, think- 
 ing that she was going down, got off at once, taking my 
 father, who had been injured and made insensible in
 
 MISS FR EG ELI US 119 
 
 some way, with them as he happened to be on deck, 
 leaving me to my chance. You know, we were the only 
 passengers." 
 
 " Were you not frightened when you found yourself 
 all alone like that ? " 
 
 "Yes, at first, dreadfully; then I was so distressed 
 about my father, whom I thought dead, and angry with 
 them for deserting me, that I forgot to be frightened, 
 and afterwards well, I was too proud. Besides, we 
 must die alone, every one of us, so we may as well get 
 accustomed to the idea." 
 
 Morris shrugged his shoulders impatiently. 
 
 " You think that I need not talk so much about our 
 mortal end. Well, perhaps under all the circumstances, 
 we may as well keep our thoughts on this world 
 while it lasts. You have not told me, Mr. Monk, how 
 you came to be sailing about alone this morning. Did 
 you come out to look at the wreck ? " 
 
 " Do you think that I am mad ? " he asked, not with- 
 out indignation. " Should I make a journey at night, 
 in a November fog, with every chance of a gale com- 
 ing up, to the Sunk Rocks in this cockle-shell, and 
 alone, merely to look at the place where, as I under- 
 stood rather vaguely, a foreign tramp steamer had gone 
 down ? " 
 
 "Well, it does seem rather odd. But why else did 
 you come ? Were you fishing ? Men will risk a 
 great deal for fishing, I know, I have seen that in 
 Norway." 
 
 " Why do you pretend not to understand, Miss 
 Fregelius ? You must know perfectly well that I came 
 to look for you."
 
 120 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " Indeed," she answered candidly, " I knew nothing 
 of the sort. How did you find out that I was still on 
 the ship, or that the ship was still above water ? And 
 even if you knew both, why should you risk your life 
 just on the faint chance of rescuing a girl whom you 
 never saw ? " 
 
 " I can't quite tell you; but your father in his delirium 
 muttered some words which made me suspect the truth, 
 and a sailor who could speak a little bad French said that 
 the Trondhjem was lost upon some rocks. Well, these 
 are the only rocks about here; and as the whole story 
 was too vague to carry to the lifeboat people I thought 
 that I would come to look. So you see it is perfectly 
 simple." 
 
 " So simple, Mr. Monk, that I do not understand it in 
 the least. You must have known the risks, for you 
 asked no one to share them the risks that are so 
 near and real ; " and, shivering visibly, she looked at the 
 grey combers seething past them, and the wind-torn 
 horizon beyond. "Yet, you you who have ties, faced 
 all this on the chance of saving a stranger." 
 
 " Please, please," broke in Morris. " At any rate, 
 you see, it was a happy inspiration." 
 
 "Yes, for me, perhaps but for you! Oh, if it 
 should end in your being taken away from the world 
 before your time, from the world and the lady who 
 what then ? " 
 
 Morris winced ; then he said : " God's will be done. 
 But although we may be in danger, we are not dead yet ; 
 not by a long way." 
 
 " She would hate me whose evil fortune it was to 
 draw you to death, and in life or out of it I should
 
 MISS FREGELIUS 121 
 
 never forgive myself never! never! " and she covered 
 her eyes with her cold, wet hand and sighed. 
 
 " Why should you grieve over what you cannot 
 help ? " asked Morris gently. 
 
 " I cannot quite explain to you," she answered ; " but 
 the thought of it seems so sad."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 DAWN AND THE LAND 
 
 A DAY, a whole day, spent upon that sullen, sunless 
 waste of water, with the great waves bearing them 
 onwards in one eternal, monotonous procession, till at 
 length they grew dizzy with looking at them, and the 
 ceaseless gale piping in their ears. Long ago they had 
 lost sight of land ; even the tall church towers built by 
 our ancestors as beacons on this stormy coast had 
 vanished utterly. Twice they sighted ships scudding 
 along under their few rags of canvas, and once a 
 steamer passed, the smoke from her funnels blowing 
 out like long black pennons. But all of these were too 
 far off, or too much engaged with their own affairs to 
 see the little craft tossing hither and thither like a 
 used-up herring basket upon the endless area of ocean. 
 
 Fortunately, from his youth Morris had been accus- 
 tomed to the management of boats in all sorts of 
 weather, the occupation of sailing alone upon the waters 
 being one well suited to his solitary and reflective dis- 
 position. Thus it came about that they survived, when 
 others, less skilful, might have drowned. Sometimes 
 they ran before the seas ; sometimes they got up a few 
 square feet of sail, and, taking advantage of a veer in 
 the wind, tried to tack, and once, when it blew its
 
 DAWN AND THE LAND 123 
 
 hardest, fearing lest they should be pooped, for over 
 an hour they contrived to keep head on to the waves. 
 
 Thus, diversified by some necessary bailing, passed 
 the short November day, long enough for them, till 
 once more the darkness began to gather. They had 
 still some food and drink left ; indeed, had it not been 
 for these they would have perished. Most happily, also, 
 with the sun the wind dropped, although for hours the 
 sea remained dangerously high. Now wet and cold 
 were their enemies, worse than any that they had been 
 called upon to face. Long ago the driving spray had 
 soaked them to the skin, and there upon the sea the 
 winter night was very chill. 
 
 While the wind, fortunately for them, by comparison 
 a warm one, still blew from the west, and the sea 
 remained tempestuous, they found some shelter by wrap- 
 ping themselves in a corner of the sail. Towards mid- 
 night, however, it got round to the northeast, enough 
 of it to moderate the sea considerably, and to enable 
 them to put the boat about and go before it with a 
 closely reefed sail. Now, indeed, they were bitterly 
 cold, and longed even for the shelter of the wet canvas. 
 Still Morris felt, and Stella was of the same mind, that 
 before utter exhaustion overtook them their best chance 
 for life lay in trying to make the shore, which was, they 
 knew not how far away. 
 
 There, then, for hours they cowered in the stern of 
 the boat, huddled together to protect themselves as best 
 they might from the weather, and plunging forward 
 beneath their little stretch of sail. Sleep they could 
 not, for that icy breath bit into their marrow, and of this 
 Morris was glad, since he did not dare relax his watch
 
 124 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 for an instant. So sometimes they sat silent, and some- 
 times by fits and starts they talked, their lips close to 
 each other's face, as though they were whispering to 
 one another. 
 
 To while away the weary time, Morris told his com- 
 panion about his invention, the aerophone. Then she 
 in turn told him something of her previous life Stella 
 was now a woman of four and twenty. It seemed that 
 her mother had died when she was fourteen at the 
 rectory in Northumberland, where she was born. After 
 that, with short intervals, she had spent five years in 
 Denmark, whither her father came to visit her every 
 summer. Most of this time she passed at a school in 
 Copenhagen, going for her holidays to stay with her 
 grandmother, who was the widow of a small landowner 
 of noble family, and lived in an ancient, dilapidated house 
 in some remote village. At length the grandmother 
 died, leaving to Stella the trifle she possessed, after 
 which, her education being completed, she returned to 
 Northumberland to keep house for her father. Here, 
 too, it would seem that her life was very lonely, for the 
 place was but an unvisited coast village, and they were 
 not rich enough to mix much with the few county 
 families who lived anywhere within reach. 
 
 " Have you no brothers or sisters ? " asked Morris. 
 
 Even then, numb as was her flesh with cold, he felt 
 her wince at the question. 
 
 " No, no," she answered, " none now at least, none 
 here. I have I mean I had a sister, my twin, but 
 she died when we were seventeen. This was the most 
 dreadful thing that ever happened to me, the thing which 
 made me what I am."
 
 DAWN AND THE LAND 12$ 
 
 " I don't quite understand. What are you, then ? " 
 
 " Oh, something very unsatisfactory, I am afraid, 
 quite different from other people. What Mr. Tomley 
 said you were, Mr. Monk, a mystic and a dreamer of 
 dreams ; a lover of the dead ; one who dwells in the past, 
 and in the future." 
 
 Morris did not pursue the subject ; even under their 
 strange circumstances, favourable as they were to inti- 
 macy and confidences, it seemed impertinent to him to 
 pry into the mysteries of his companion's life. Only 
 he asked, at hazard almost: 
 
 " How did you spend your time up there in Northum- 
 berland ? " 
 
 " In drawing a little, in collecting eggs, moths, and 
 flowers a great deal ; in practising my violin playing and 
 singing ; and during the long winters in making transla- 
 tions in my spare time of Norse sagas, which no one 
 will publish." 
 
 " I should like to read them ; I am fond of the sagas," 
 he said, and after this, under pressure of their physical 
 misery, the conversation died away. 
 
 Hour succeeded to hour, and the weather moderated 
 so much that now they were in little danger of being 
 swamped. This, indeed, was fortunate, since in the 
 event of a sudden squall or other emergency, in their 
 numbed condition it was doubtful whether they could 
 have found strength to do what might be necessary to 
 save themselves. They drank what remained of the 
 whiskey, which put life into their veins for a while, but 
 soon its effects passed off, leaving them, if possible, 
 more frozen than before. 
 
 " What is the time ?" asked Stella, after a long silence.
 
 126 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " It should be daybreak in about two hours," he an- 
 swered, in a voice that attempted cheerfulness. 
 
 Then a squall of sleet burst upon them, and after 
 this new misery a torpor overcame Stella ; at least, her 
 shiverings grew less violent, and her head sank upon 
 his shoulder. Morris put one arm about her waist to 
 save her from slipping into the water at the bottom of 
 the boat, making shift to steer with the other. Thus, 
 for a while they ploughed forward whither he knew 
 not, across the inky sea, for there was no moon, and the 
 stars were hidden, driven on slowly by the biting breath 
 of the winter wind. 
 
 Presently she awoke, lifted her head, and spoke, 
 saying : 
 
 "We can't last much longer in this cold and wet. 
 You are not afraid, are you ? " 
 
 " No, not exactly afraid, only sorry ; it is hard to go 
 with so much to be done, and to leave behind." 
 
 "You shouldn't think like that," she answered, "for 
 what we leave must follow. She will suffer, but soon 
 she will be with you again, where everything is under- 
 stood. Only you ought to have died with her, and not 
 with me, a stranger." 
 
 " Fate settles these things," he muttered, " and if it 
 comes to that, perhaps God will give her strength. But 
 the dawn is near, and by it we may see land." 
 
 " Yes, yes," now her voice had sunk to a whisper, 
 "the dawn is always near, and by it we shall see land." 
 
 Then again Stella's head sank upon his shoulder, and 
 she slept heavily ; nor, although he knew that such 
 slumbers are dangerous, did he think it worth while to 
 disturb her.
 
 DAWN AND THE LAND 127 
 
 The invisible seas hissed past ; the sharp wind bit his 
 bones, and over him, too, that fatal slumber began to 
 creep. But, although he seldom exercised it, Morris was 
 a man of strong will, and while any strength was left 
 he refused to give way. Would this dreadful darkness 
 never end ? For the fiftieth time he glanced back over 
 his shoulder, and now, he was sure of it, the east grew 
 ashen. He waited awhile, for the November dawn is 
 slow in breaking, then looked again. Heaven be 
 thanked ! the cold wind had driven away the clouds, and 
 there, upon the edge of the horizon, peeped up the fiery 
 circle of the sun, throwing long rays of sickly yellow 
 across the grey, troubled surface of the waters. In 
 front of him lay a dense bank of fog, which, from its 
 character, as Morris knew well, must emanate from the 
 reeking face of earth. They were near shore, it could 
 not be doubted ; still, he did not wake his companion. 
 Perhaps he might be in error, and sleep, even a 
 death-sleep, is better than the cheatings of disappointed 
 hope. 
 
 What was that dim object in front of him ? Surely 
 it must be the ruin a mile or so to the north of Monks- 
 land, that was known as the Dead Church ? Once a 
 village stood here, but the sea had taken most of it ; in- 
 deed, all that remained to-day was this old, deserted fane, 
 which, having been built upon a breast of rising ground, 
 still remained, awaiting its destruction by the slow sap of 
 the advancing ocean. Even now, at times of very high 
 tide, the sea closed in behind, cutting the fabric off from 
 the mainland, when it looked like a forsaken lighthouse 
 rather than the tower and chancel of a church. But 
 there, not much more than a mile away, yes, there it
 
 128 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 was, and Morris felt proud to think how straight he had 
 steered homewards through that stormy darkness. 
 
 The sea was still wild and high, but he was familiar 
 with every inch of the coast, and knew well that there 
 was a spot to the south of the Dead Church, just where 
 the last rood of graveyard met the sand, upon which he 
 could beach the boat safely even in worse weather. For 
 this nook Morris headed with a new energy ; the fires of 
 life and hope burnt up in him, giving him back his 
 strength and judgment. 
 
 At last they were opposite to the place, and, watching 
 his chance, he put the helm down and ran in upon the 
 crest of a wave, till the boat grounded in the soft sand, 
 and began to wallow there like a dying thing. Fearing 
 lest the back-wash should suck them off into the surf 
 again, he rolled himself into the water, for jump he 
 could not; indeed, it was as much as he could do to 
 stand. With a last effort of his strength he seized 
 Stella in his arms and struggled with her to the sandy 
 shore, where he sank down exhausted. Then she woke. 
 " Oh, I dreamed, I dreamed ! " she said, staring round 
 her wildly. 
 
 "What?" he asked. 
 
 "That it was all over; and afterwards, that I " 
 
 and she broke off suddenly, adding : " But it was all a 
 dream, for we are safe on shore, are we not ? " 
 
 " Yes, thank Heaven ! " said Morris. " Sit still, and I 
 will make the boat secure. She has served us a good 
 turn, and I do not want to lose her after all." 
 
 She nodded, and wading into the water, with numbed 
 hands he managed to lift the little anchor and carry 
 it ashore in his arms.
 
 DAWN AND THE LAND 129 
 
 " There," he said, " the tide is ebbing, and she'll hold 
 fast enough until I can send to fetch her ; or, if not, it 
 can't be helped. Come on, Miss Fregelius, before you 
 grow too stiff to walk ; " and, bending down, he helped 
 her to her feet. 
 
 Their road ran past the nave of the church, which was 
 ruined and unroofed. At some time during the last two 
 generations, however, although the parishioners saw that 
 it was useless to go to the cost of repairing the nave, they 
 had bricked in the chancel, and to within the last twenty 
 years continued to use it as a place of worship. Indeed, 
 the old oak door taken from the porch still swung on 
 rusty hinges in the partition wall of red brick. Stella 
 looked up and saw it. 
 
 " I want to look in there," she said. 
 
 " Wouldn't it do another time ? " The moment did 
 not strike Morris as appropriate for the examination of 
 ruined churches. 
 
 " No ; if you don't mind I should like to look now, 
 while I remember, just for one instant." 
 
 So he shrugged his shoulders, and they limped for- 
 ward up the roofless nave and through the door. She 
 stared at the plain stone altar, at the eastern window, of 
 which part was filled with ancient coloured glass and 
 part with cheap glazed panes ; at the oak choir benches, 
 mouldy and broken ; at the few wall-slabs and decaying 
 monuments, and at the roof still strong and massive. 
 
 " I dreamed of a place very like this," she said, nod- 
 ding her head. " I thought that I was standing in such 
 a spot in a fearful gale, and that the sea got under the 
 foundations and washed the dead out of their graves." 
 
 " Really, Miss Fregelius," he said, with some irritation,
 
 130 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 for the surroundings of the scene and his companion's 
 talk were uncanny, " do you think this an occasion to 
 explore ruins and relate nightmares ? " Then he added, 
 " I beg your pardon, but I think that the cold and wet 
 have affected your nerves ; for my part, I have none left." 
 
 " Perhaps ; at least forgive me, I did so want to look," 
 she answered humbly as, arm-in-arm, for she needed 
 support, they passed from the altar to the door. 
 
 A grotesque imagination entered the numbed mind 
 of Morris. Their slow and miserable march turned 
 itself to a vision of a bridal procession from the altar. 
 Wet, dishevelled, half-frozen, they two were the bride- 
 groom and the bride, and the bride was a seer of visions, 
 and the bridegroom was a dreamer of dreams. Yes, and 
 they came up together out of the bitter sea and the 
 darkness, and they journeyed together to a vault of 
 the dead 
 
 Thank Heaven ! they were out of the place, and 
 above was the sun shining, and, to right and left, the grey 
 ocean and the purple plough-lands, cold-looking, suggest- 
 ing dangers and labour, but wholesome all of them, and 
 good to the eye of man. Only why did this woman see 
 visions, and why did he dream dreams ? And what was 
 the meaning of their strange meeting upon the sea ? 
 And what 
 
 " Where are we going ? " asked Stella after a while 
 and very faintly. 
 
 " Home ; to the Abbey I mean, where your father 
 lies. Now it is not much more than a mile away." 
 
 She sighed ; her strength was failing her. 
 
 "You had better try to walk, it will warm you," he 
 urged, and she struggled on.
 
 DAWN AND THE LAND 131 
 
 It was a miserable journey, but they reached the 
 house at length, passing first through a street of the 
 village in which no one seemed to be awake. A 
 wretched-looking couple, they stumbled up the steps 
 into the porch, where Morris rang the bell, for the door 
 was locked. The time seemed an age, but at last steps 
 were heard, the door was unbarred, and there appeared 
 the vision of the lad Thomas, yawning, and clad in a 
 nightshirt and a pair of trousers, with braces attached 
 which dangled to the floor. 
 
 "Oh, Lord! " he said when he saw them, and his jaw 
 dropped. 
 
 "Get out of the way, you young idiot," said Morris, 
 "and call the cook." 
 
 It was half-past seven in the evening, that is, dinner 
 time, and Morris stood in the study waiting for Stella, 
 who had announced through the housemaid that she was 
 coming down. 
 
 After telling the servants to send for the doctor and 
 attend to his companion, who had insisted upon being 
 led straight to her father's room, Morris's first act 
 that morning on reaching home was to take a bath as 
 hot as he could bear. Then he drank several cups 
 of coffee with brandy in it, and as the office would 
 soon be open, wrote a telegram to Mary, which ran 
 thus: 
 
 " If you hear that I have been drowned, don't believe 
 it. Have arrived safe home after a night at sea." 
 
 This done, for he guessed that all sorts of rumours 
 would be abroad, he inquired after Mr. Fregelius and
 
 132 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Stella. Having learned that they were both going on 
 well and sent off his telegram, Morris went to bed and 
 slept for ten hours. 
 
 Morris looked round the comfortable sitting-room 
 with its recessed Tudor windows, its tall bookcases and 
 open hearth, where burned a bright fire of old ship's 
 timbers supported on steel dogs, and thought to himself 
 that he was fortunate to be there. Then the door 
 opened, he heard the housemaid's voice say, " This way 
 please, Miss," and Stella came in. She wore a plain 
 white dress that seemed to fit her very well, though 
 where she got it from he never discovered, and her luxu- 
 riant hair was twisted up into a simple knot. On the 
 bosom of her dress was fixed a spray of brilliant ampe- 
 lopsis leaves ; it was her only ornament, but none could 
 have been more striking. For the rest, although she 
 limped and still looked dark and weary about the eyes, 
 to all appearances she was not much the worse for their 
 terrible adventure. 
 
 Morris glanced at her. Could this dignified and 
 lovely young lady be that red-cloaked, loose-haired 
 Valkyrie whom he had seen singing at daybreak upon 
 the prow of the sinking ship, or the piteous bedraggled 
 person whom he had supported from the altar in the 
 Dead Church ? 
 
 She guessed his thought from the beginning Stella 
 had this curious power of discovering his mind and 
 said with a smile : 
 
 " Fine feathers make fine birds, and even Cleopatra 
 would have looked dreadful after a November night in 
 an open boat."
 
 DAWN AND THE LAND 133 
 
 " Have you recovered ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Monk ; that is, I don't think I am going to 
 have inflammation of the lungs or anything horrid of 
 the sort. The remedies and that walk stopped it. But 
 my feet are peeling from being soaked so long in salt 
 water, and my hands are not much better. See," and 
 she held them towards him. 
 
 Then dinner was announced, and for the second time 
 that day they walked arm-in-arm. 
 
 " It seems a little strange, doesn't it ? " suggested 
 Morris as he surveyed the great refectory in which 
 they two, seated at the central table, looked so lone and 
 small. 
 
 " Yes," she answered ; " but so it should, anything 
 quite usual would have been out of place to-day." 
 
 Then he asked her how her father was going on, and 
 heard what he had already learned from the doctor, 
 that he was doing as well as could be expected. 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Monk," she added; "if you can 
 spare a few minutes after dinner, and are not too tired, 
 he would so much like to see you." 
 
 " Of course," answered Morris a little nervously, for 
 he scented a display of fervent gratitude. 
 
 After this they dropped into desultory conversation, 
 curiously different from the intimate talk which passed 
 between them in the boat. Then they had been in 
 danger, and at times in the very shadow of Death ; a con- 
 dition that favours confidences since those who stand 
 beneath his wings no longer care to hide their hearts. 
 The reserves which so largely direct our lives are lifted, 
 their necessity is past, and in the face of the last act of 
 Nature, Nature asserts herself. Who cares to continue
 
 134 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 to play a part when the audience has dispersed, the cur- 
 tain is falling, and the pay-box has put up its shutters ? 
 Now, very unexpectedly these two were on the stage 
 again, and each assumed the allotted role. 
 
 Stella admired the room ; whereon Morris set to work 
 to explain its characteristics, to find, to his astonishment, 
 that Miss Fregelius had more knowledge of architecture 
 than he could boast. He pointed out certain details, 
 alleging them to be Elizabethan work, to which age they 
 had been accredited for generations, whereon she sug- 
 gested and, indeed, proved, that some of them dated 
 from the earlier years of Henry VIII., and that some 
 were late Jacobean. While Morris was wondering how 
 he could combat this revolutionary opinion, the servant 
 brought in a telegram. It was from Mary, at Beaulieu, 
 and ran : 
 
 " Had not heard you were drowned, but am deeply 
 thankful that you are saved. Why did you pass a night 
 at sea in this weather ? Is it a riddle ? Grieved to say 
 my father not so well. Best love, and please keep on 
 shore. MARY." 
 
 At first Morris was angry with this rather flippant 
 message ; then he laughed. As he had already discov- 
 ered, in fact, his anxieties had been quite groundless. 
 The page-boy, Thomas, it appeared, when questioned, 
 had given the inquirers to understand that his master 
 had gone out to fish, taking his breakfast with him. 
 Later, on his non-appearance, he amended this state- 
 ment, suggesting out of the depths of a fertile imagina- 
 tion, that he had sailed down to Northwold, where he 
 meant to pass the night. Therefore, although the cook,
 
 DAWN AND THE LAND 135 
 
 a far-seeing woman who knew her Thomas and hated 
 him, had experienced pangs of doubt, nobody else 
 troubled in the least, and even the small community of 
 Monksland remained profoundly undisturbed as to the 
 fate of one of its principal inhabitants. 
 
 So little is an unsympathetic world concerned in our 
 greatest and most particular adventures ! A birth, a 
 marriage, an inquest, a scandal these move it super- 
 ficially, for the rest it has no enthusiasm to spare. This 
 cold neglect of events which had seemed to him so im- 
 portant reacted upon Morris, who, now that he had got 
 over his chill and fatigue, saw them in their proper pro- 
 portions. A little adventure in an open boat at sea 
 which had ended without any mishap, was not remark- 
 able, and might even be made to appear ridiculous. So 
 the less said about it, especially to Mary, whose wit he 
 feared, the better. 
 
 When dinner was finished Stella left the room, pass- 
 ing down its shadowed recesses with a peculiar grace of 
 which even her limp could not rob her. Ten minutes 
 later, while Morris sat sipping a glass of claret, the nurse 
 came down to tell him that Mr. Fregelius would like to 
 see him if he were disengaged. Reflecting that he 
 might as well get the interview over, Morris followed her 
 at once to the Abbot's chamber, where the sick man lay. 
 
 Except for a single lamp near the bed, the place 
 was unlighted, but by the fire, its glow falling on her 
 white-draped form and pale, uncommon face, sat Stella. 
 As he entered she rose, and, coming forward, accom- 
 panied him to th^ bedside, saying, in an earnest voice : 
 
 " Father, here is our host, Mr. Monk, the gentleman 
 who saved my life at the risk of his own."
 
 136 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 The patient raised his bandaged head and stretched 
 out a long thin hand ; he could stir nothing else, for his 
 right thigh was in splints beneath a coffer-like erection 
 designed to keep the pressure of the blankets from his 
 injured limb. 
 
 " Sir, I thank you," he said in a dry, staccato voice ; 
 "all the humanity that is lacking from the hearts of 
 those rude wretches, the crew of the Trondhjem, must 
 have found its home in you." 
 
 Morris looked at the dark, quick eyes that seemed to 
 express much which the thin and impassive face refused 
 to reveal ; at the grey pointed beard and the yellowish 
 skin of the outstretched arm. Here before him, he 
 felt, lay a man whose personality it was not easy to 
 define, one who might be foolish, or might be able, but 
 of whose character the leading note was reticence, in- 
 herent or acquired. Then he took the hand, and said 
 simply : 
 
 " Pray, say no more about it. I acted on an impulse 
 and some wandering words of yours, with results for 
 which I could not hope. There is nothing to thank me 
 for." 
 
 " Then, sir, I thank God, who inspired you with that 
 impulse, and may every blessing reward your bravery." 
 
 Stella looked up as though to speak, but changed her 
 mind and returned to her seat by the fire. 
 
 " What is there to reward ? " said Morris impatiently ; 
 " that your daughter is still alive is my reward. How 
 are you to-night, Mr. Fregelius ? "
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 A MORNING SERVICE 
 
 MR. FREGELIUS replied he was as well as could be 
 expected ; that the doctor said no complications were 
 likely to ensue, but that here upon this very bed he 
 must lie for at least two months. " That," he added, 
 "is a sad thing to have to say to a man into whose 
 house you have drifted like a log into a pool of the 
 rocks." 
 
 "It is not my house, but my father's, who is at 
 present in France," answered Morris. " But I can 
 only say on his behalf that both you and your daughter 
 are most welcome until you are well enough to move 
 to the Rectory." 
 
 " Why should I not go there at once ? " interrupted 
 Stella. " I could come each day and see my father." 
 
 " No, no, certainly not," said Morris. " How could 
 you live alone in that great, empty house ? " 
 
 " I am not afraid of being alone," she answered, 
 smiling; "but let it be as you like, Mr. Monk at any 
 rate, until you grow tired of us, and change your mind." 
 
 Then Mr. Fregelius told Morris what he had not yet 
 heard that when it became known that they had deserted 
 Stella, leaving her to drown in the sinking ship, the at- 
 tentions of the inhabitants of Monksland to the cowardly 
 foreign sailors became so marked that their consul at
 
 138 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Northwold had thought it wise to get them out of the 
 place as quickly as possible. While this story was in 
 progress Stella left the room to speak to the nurse who 
 had been engaged to look after her father at night. 
 
 Afterwards, at the request of Mr. Fregelius, Morris 
 told the tale of his daughter's rescue. In the course 
 of it he mentioned how he found her standing on the 
 deck of the sinking ship and singing a Norse song, 
 which she had informed him was an ancient death-dirge. 
 
 The old clergyman turned his head and sighed. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " asked Morris. 
 
 " Nothing, Mr. Monk ; only that song is unlucky in 
 my family, and I hoped that she had forgotten it." 
 
 Morris looked at him blankly. 
 
 " You don't understand how should you ? But, Mr. 
 Monk, there are strange things and strange people in 
 this world, and I think that my daughter Stella is one 
 of the strangest of them. Fey like the rest only a 
 fey Norse woman would sing in such a moment." 
 
 Again Morris looked at him. 
 
 " Oh, it is an old northern term, and means foreseeing, 
 and foredoomed. To my knowledge her grandmother, 
 her mother, and her sister, all three of them, sang or 
 repeated that song when in some imminent danger to 
 their lives, and all three of them were dead within the 
 year. The coincidence is unpleasant." 
 
 "Surely," said Morris, with a smile, "you who are a 
 clergyman, can scarcely believe in such superstition ? " 
 
 " No, I am not superstitious, and I don't believe in 
 it ; but the thing recalls unhappy memories. They 
 have been death-lovers, all of them. I never heard of 
 a case of one of that family who showed the slightest
 
 A MORNING SERVICE 139 
 
 fear at the approach of death ; and some have greeted 
 it with eagerness." 
 
 " Well," said Morris, " would not that mean only 
 that their spiritual sight is a little clearer than ours, 
 and their faith a little stronger? Theoretically, we 
 should all of us wish to die." 
 
 " Quite so, yet we are human, and don't. But she 
 is safe, thanks to you, who but for you would now be 
 gone. My head is still weak from that blow you must 
 pay no attention to me. I think that I hear Stella com- 
 ing; you will say nothing to her about that song, I 
 mean will you ? We never talk of it in my family." 
 
 When, still stiff and sore from his adventure in the 
 open boat, Morris went to bed, it was clear to his mind 
 after careful consideration that fortune had made him 
 the host of an exceedingly strange couple. Of Mr. 
 Fregelius he was soon able to form an estimate distinct 
 enough, although, for aught he knew, it might be errone- 
 ous. The clergyman struck him as a person of some 
 abilities who had been doomed to much disappointment 
 and suffered from many sorrows. Doubtless his talents 
 had not proved to be of a nature to advance him in the 
 world. Probably, indeed and here Morris's hazard was 
 correct he was a scholar and a bookworm without in- 
 dividuality, to whom fate had assigned minor positions 
 in a profession, which, however sincere his faith, he was 
 scarcely fitted to adorn. 
 
 The work of a clergyman in a country parish if it is 
 to succeed, should be essentially practical, and this man 
 was not practical. Clearly, thought Morris, he was one 
 of those who beat their wings against the bars with the 
 common result ; it was the wings that suffered, the bars
 
 140 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 only grew a trifle brighter. Then it seemed that he had 
 lost a wife to whom he was attached, and the child who 
 remained to him, although he loved her and clung to her, 
 he did not altogether understand. So it came about, 
 perhaps, that he had fallen under the curses of loneli- 
 ness and continual apprehension ; and in this shadow 
 where he was doomed to walk, flourished forebodings 
 and regrets, drawing their strength from his starved 
 nature like fungi from a tree outgrown and fallen in the 
 forest. 
 
 Mr. Fregelius, so thought Morris, was timid and 
 reticent, because he dared not discover his heart, that 
 had been so sorely trampled by Fate and Fortune. Yet 
 he had a heart which, if he could find a confessor whom 
 he could trust, he longed to ease in confidence. For 
 the rest, the man's physical frame, not too robust at any 
 time, was shattered, and with it his nerve sudden ship- 
 wreck, painful accident, the fierce alternatives of hope 
 and fear ; then at last a delirium of joy at the recovery 
 of one whom he thought dead, had done their work 
 with him ; and in this broken state some ancient, secret 
 superstition became dominant, and, strive as he would 
 to suppress it, even in the presence of a stranger, had 
 burst from his lips in hints of unsubstantial folly. 
 
 Such was the father, or such he appeared to Morris, 
 but of the daughter what could be said ? Without 
 doubt she was a woman of strange and impressive 
 power. At this very moment her sweet voice, touched 
 with that continual note of pleading, still echoed in his 
 brain. And the dark, quiet eyes that now slept, and 
 now shone large, as her thoughts fled through them, like 
 some mysterious sky at night in which the summer
 
 A MORNING SERVICE 141 
 
 lightning pulses intermittently! Who might forget 
 those eyes that once had seen them? Already he 
 wished to be rid of their haunting and could not. Then 
 her beauty how unusual it was, yet how rich and satis- 
 fying to the eye and sense ; in some ways almost Eastern 
 notwithstanding her Norse blood ! 
 
 Often Morris had read and heard of the bewildering 
 power of women, which for his part hitherto he had 
 been inclined to attribute to shallow and very common 
 causes, such as underlie all animate nature. Yet that 
 of Stella for undoubtedly she had power suggested 
 another interpretation to his mind. Or was it, after all, 
 nothing but a variant, one of the Protean shapes of the 
 ancient, life-compelling mystery ? And her strange 
 chant, the song of which her father made light, but 
 feared so much ; her quick insight into the workings 
 of his own thought ; her courage in the face of danger 
 and sharp physical miseries ; her charm, her mastery. 
 What was he to make of them ? Lastly, why did he 
 think so much about her ? It was not his habit where 
 strangers were concerned. And why had she awakened 
 in his somewhat solitary and secluded mind a sympathy 
 so unusual that it seemed to him that he had known her 
 for years and not for hours ? 
 
 Pondering these things and the fact that perhaps 
 within the coming weeks he would find out their mean- 
 ing, Morris went to sleep. When he awoke next morn- 
 ing his mood had changed. Somewhat vaguely he 
 remembered his perturbations of the previous night 
 indeed, but now they only moved him to a smile. Their 
 reasons were so obvious. Such exaggerated estimates 
 and thoughts follow strange adventures and in all its
 
 142 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 details the adventure was very strange as naturally as 
 nightmares follow indigestion. 
 
 Presently Thomas came to call him, and brought up 
 his letters, among them one from Mary containing 
 nothing in particular, for, of course, it had been 
 despatched before her telegram, but written in her 
 usual humorous style, which made him laugh aloud. 
 
 There was a postscript to the letter screwed into the 
 unoccupied space between the date line and the " Dear- 
 est Morris " at its commencement. It ran : 
 
 "How would you like to spend our honeymoon? In 
 a yacht in the Mediterranean ? I think that would do. 
 There is nothing like solitude in a wretched little boat to 
 promote mutual understanding. If your devotion could 
 stand the strain of a dishevelled and seasick spouse, our 
 matrimonial future has no terrors for your loving 
 
 MARY." 
 
 As Morris read he ceased to laugh. "Yes," he 
 thought to himself, " ' solitude in a wretched little boat ' 
 does promote mutual understanding. I am not certain 
 that it does not promote it too much." Then, with an 
 access of irritation, " Bother the people ! I wish I could 
 be rid of them ; the whole thing seems likely to become 
 a worry." 
 
 Next he took up a letter from his father, which, when 
 perused, did not entertain him in the least. There was 
 nothing about Lady Rawlins in it, of whom he longed 
 to hear, or thought that he did ; nothing about that 
 entrancing personality, the bibulous and violent Sir 
 Jonah, now so meek and lamblike, but plenty, whole 
 pages indeed, as to details connected with the estate.
 
 A MORNING SERVICE 143 
 
 Also it contained a goodly sprinkling of sarcasms and 
 grumblings at his, Morris's, bad management of various 
 little matters which the Colonel considered important. 
 Most of all, however, was his parent indignant at his 
 neglect to furnish him with details sufficiently ample of 
 the progress of the new buildings. Lastly, he desired, 
 by return' of post, a verbatim report of the quarrel that, 
 as he was informed, had occurred on the school board 
 when a prominent Roman Catholic threatened to throw 
 an inkstand at a dissenting minister who, coram populo, 
 called him the son of " a Babylonian woman." 
 
 By the time that Morris had finished this epistle, and 
 two others which accompanied it, he was in no mood for 
 further reflections of an unpractical or dreamy nature. 
 Who can wonder when it is stated that they contained, 
 respectively, a summary demand for the amount of a 
 considerable bill which he imagined he had paid, and a 
 request that he would read a paper before a " Science 
 Institute " upon the possibilities of aerial telephones, 
 made by a very unpleasing lady whom he had once met 
 at a lawn-tennis party? Indeed it would not be too 
 much to say that if anyone had given him the oppor- 
 tunity he would have welcomed a chance to quarrel, 
 especially with the lady of the local Institute. Thus, 
 cured of all moral distempers, and every tendency to 
 speculate on feminine charms, hidden or overt, did he 
 descend to the Sabbath breakfast. 
 
 That morning Morris escorted Stella to church, where 
 the services were still being performed by a stop-gap left 
 by Mr. Tomley. Here, again, Stella was a surprise to 
 him, for now her demeanour, and at a little distance 
 her appearance also, were just such as mark ninety-
 
 144 STELLA F REG ELI US 
 
 eight out of every hundred clergymen's daughters in 
 the country. So quiet and reserved was she that any- 
 one meeting her that morning might have imagined that 
 she was hurrying from the accustomed Bible-class to sit 
 among her pupils in the church. This impression indeed 
 was, as it were, certificated by an old-fashioned silk fichu 
 that she had been obliged to borrow, which in bygone 
 years had been worn by Morris's mother. 
 
 Once in church, however, matters changed. To be- 
 gin with, finding it warm, Stella threw oft the fichu, 
 greatly to the gain of her personal appearance. Next, 
 it became evident that the beauties of the ancient build- 
 ing appealed to her, which was not wonderful ; for these 
 old, seaside, eastern counties churches, relics of long past 
 wealth and piety, are some of them among the most beau- 
 tiful in the world. Then came the " Venite," of which 
 here and there she sang a line or so, just one or two rich 
 notes like those that a thrush utters before he bursts 
 into full song. Rare as they might be, however, they 
 caused those about her in the church to look at the 
 strange singer wonderingly. 
 
 After this, in the absence of his father, Morris read 
 the lessons, and although, being blessed with a good 
 voice, this was a duty which he performed creditably 
 enough, that day he went through it with a certain sense of 
 nervousness. Why he was nervous at first he did not 
 guess ; till, chancing to glance up, he became aware that 
 Miss Fregelius was looking at him out of her half-closed 
 eyes. What is more, she was listening critically, and 
 with much intenseness, whereupon, instantly, he made a 
 mistake and put a false accent on a name. 
 
 In due course, the lessons done with, they reached the
 
 A MORNING SERVICE 145 
 
 first hymn, which was one that scarcely seemed to please 
 his companion ; at any rate, she shut the book and would 
 not sing. In the case of the second hymn, however, 
 matters were different. This time she did not even 
 open the book. It was evident that she knew the words, 
 perhaps among the most beautiful in the whole collec- 
 tion, by heart. The reader will probably be acquainted 
 with them. They begin : 
 
 " And now, O Father, mindful of the love 
 That bought us, once for all, on Calvary's tree." 
 
 At first Stella sang quite low, as though she wished to 
 repress her powers. Now, as it happened, at Monks- 
 land the choir was feeble, but inoffensive ; whereas the 
 organ was a good, if a worn and neglected instrument, 
 suited to the great but sparsely peopled church, and the 
 organist, a man who had music in his soul. Low as she 
 was singing, he caught the sound of Stella's voice, and 
 knew at once that before him was a woman who in a 
 supreme degree possessed the divinest gift, perhaps, 
 with which Nature can crown her sex, the power and 
 gift of song. Forgetting his wretched choir, he began 
 to play to her. She seemed to note the invitation, and 
 at once answered to it. 
 
 " Look, Father, look on His anointed face," 
 
 swelled from her throat in deep contralto notes, rich as 
 those the organ echoed. 
 
 But the full glory of the thing, that surpassing music 
 which set Monksland talking for a week, was not 
 reached till she came to the third verse. Perhaps the 
 pure passion and abounding humanity of its spirit
 
 146 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 moved her. Perhaps by this time she was the thrall of 
 her own song. Perhaps she had caught the look of 
 wonder and admiration on the face of Morris, and was 
 determined to show him that she had other music at 
 command besides that of pagan death-chants. At least, 
 she sang up and out, till her notes dominated those of 
 the choir, which seemed to be but an accompaniment to 
 them ; till they beat against the ancient roof and down 
 the depth of the long nave, to be echoed back as though 
 from the golden trumpets of the angels that stood above 
 the tower screen ; till even the village children ceased 
 from whispers and playing to listen open-mouthed. 
 
 " And then for those, our dearest and our best, 
 By this prevailing Presence we appeal ; 
 O ! fold them closer to Thy mercy's breast, 
 O ! do Thine utmost, for their souls' true weal ; 
 From tainting mischief keep them white and clear, 
 And crown Thy gifts with strength to persevere.' 1 
 
 It was as her voice lingered upon the deep tones of 
 these last words that suddenly Stella seemed to become 
 aware that practically she was singing a solo ; that at 
 any rate no one else in the congregation was contributing 
 a note. Then she was vexed, or perhaps a panic took 
 her ; at least, not another word of that hymn passed her 
 lips. In vain the organist paused and looked round 
 indignantly; the little boys, the clerk, and the stout 
 coach-builder were left to finish it by themselves, with 
 results that by contrast were painful. 
 
 When Stella came out of church, redraped in the 
 antique and unbecoming fichu, she found herself the 
 object of considerable attention. Indeed, upon one pre- 
 text and another nearly all the congregation seemed to
 
 A MORNING SERVICE 147 
 
 be lingering about the porch and pathway to stare at the 
 new parson's shipwrecked daughter when she appeared. 
 Among them was Miss Layard, and with her the delicate 
 brother. They were staying to lunch with the Stop- 
 gap's meek little wife. Indeed, this self-satisfied and 
 somewhat acrimonious lady, Miss Layard, engaged 
 Morris in conversation, and pointedly asked him to intro- 
 duce her to Miss Fregelius. 
 
 " We are to be neighbours, you know," she explained, 
 " for we live at the Hall in the next parish, not more 
 than a mile away." 
 
 " Indeed," answered Stella, who did not seem much 
 impressed. 
 
 " My brother and I hope to call upon Mr. Fregelius 
 and yourself as soon as possible, but I thought I would 
 not wait for that to have the pleasure of making your 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " You are very kind indeed," said Stella simply. " At 
 present, I am afraid, it is not much use calling upon 
 my father, as he is in bed with a broken thigh ; also, 
 we are not in the Rectory. Until he can be moved 
 we are only guests at the Abbey," and she looked at 
 Morris, who added rather grumpily, by way of explana- 
 tion : 
 
 " Of course, Miss Layard, you have heard about the 
 wreck of the Trondhjem, and how those foreign sailors 
 saw the light in my workshop and brought Mr. Fregelius 
 to the Abbey." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Mr. Monk, and how they left Miss Fregelius 
 behind, and you went to fetch her, and all sorts of strange 
 things happened to you. We think it quite wonderful 
 and romantic. I am writing to dear Miss Person to tell
 
 148 STELLA FREGEL1US 
 
 her about it, because I am sure that you are too modest 
 to sing your own praises." 
 
 Morris grew angry. At the best of times he disliked 
 Miss Layard. Now he began to detest her, and to long 
 for the presence of Mary, who understood how to deal 
 with that not too well-bred young person. 
 
 " You really needn't have troubled," he answered. " I 
 have already written." 
 
 "Then my epistle will prove a useful commentary. 
 If I were engaged to a modern hero I am sure I could 
 not hear too much about him, and," fixing her eyes upon 
 the black silk fichu, "the heroine of the adventure." 
 
 Meanwhile, Stella was being engaged by the brother, 
 who surveyed her with pale, admiring eyes which did 
 not confine their attentions to the fichu. 
 
 " Monk is always an awfully lucky fellow," he said. 
 " Just fancy his getting the chance of doing all that, and 
 finding you waiting on the ship at the end of it," he 
 added, with desperate and emphatic gallantry. " There's 
 to be a whole column about it in the ' Northwold Times ' 
 to-morrow. I wish the thing had come my way, that's all." 
 
 " Unless you understand how to manage a boat in a 
 heavy sea, and the winds and tides of this coast thor- 
 oughly, I don't think that you should wish that, Mr. 
 Layard," said Stella. 
 
 "Why not?" he asked sharply. As a matter of fact 
 the little man was a miserable sailor and suspected her 
 of poking fun at him. 
 
 " Because you would have been drowned, Mr. Layard, 
 and lying at the bottom of the North Sea among the 
 dogfish and conger-eels this morning instead of sitting 
 comfortably in church."
 
 A MORNING SERVICE 149 
 
 Mr. Layard started and stared at her. Evidently 
 this lady's imagination was as vivid as it was suggestive. 
 
 "I say, Miss Fregelius," he said, "you don't put 
 things very pleasantly." 
 
 " No, I am afraid not, but then drowning isn't pleas- 
 ant. I have been near it very lately, and I thought a 
 great deal about those conger-eels. And sudden death 
 isn't pleasant, and perhaps unless you are very, very 
 good, as I daresay you are what comes after it may 
 not be quite pleasant. All of which has to be thought 
 of before one goes to sea alone in an open boat in win- 
 ter, on the remotest chance of saving a stranger's life 
 hasn't it?" 
 
 Somehow Mr. Layard felt distinctly smaller. 
 
 " I daresay one wouldn't mind it at a pinch," he mut- 
 tered ; " Monk isn't the only plucky fellow in the world." 
 
 " I am sure you would not, Mr. Layard," replied 
 Stella in a gentler voice, "still these things must be 
 considered upon such occasions and a good many 
 others." 
 
 "A brave man doesn't think, he acts," persisted Mr. 
 Layard. 
 
 "No," replied Stella, "a foolish man doesn't think, 
 a brave man thinks and sees, and still acts at least, 
 that is how it strikes me, although perhaps I have no 
 right to an opinion. But Mr. Monk is going on, so I 
 must say good-morning." 
 
 "Are many of the ladies about here so inquisitive, 
 and the young gentlemen so?" "decided" she was 
 going to say, but changed the word to " kind " asked 
 Stella of Morris as they walked homeward. 
 
 " Ladies ! " snapped Morris. " Miss Layard isn't a
 
 150 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 lady, and never will be ; she has neither birth nor breed- 
 ing, only good looks of a sort and money. I should 
 like," he added, viciously "I should like to shut her 
 into her own coal mine." 
 
 Stella laughed, which was a rare thing with her 
 usually she only smiled as she answered : 
 
 " I had no idea you were so vindictive, Mr. Monk. 
 And what would you like to do with Mr. Layard ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I never thought much about him. He is an 
 ignorant, uneducated little fellow, but worth two of his 
 sister, all the same. After all, he's got a heart. I have 
 known him do kind things, but she has nothing but a 
 temper." 
 
 Meanwhile, at the luncheon table of the Stop-gap the 
 new and mysterious arrival, Miss Fregelius, was the 
 subject of fierce debate. 
 
 " Pretty ! I don't call her pretty," said Miss Layard ; 
 " she has fine eyes, that is all, and they do not look 
 quite right. What an extraordinary garment she had 
 on, too; it might have come out of Noah's Ark." 
 
 " I fancy," suggested the hostess, a mild little woman, 
 "that it came out of the wardrobe of the late Mrs. Monk. 
 You know, Miss Fregelius lost all her things in that ship." 
 
 " Then if I were she I should have stopped at home 
 until I got some new ones," snapped Miss Layard. 
 
 " Perhaps everybody doesn't think so much about 
 clothes as you do, Eliza," suggested her brother Stephen, 
 seeing an opportunity which he was loth to lose. Eliza, 
 in the privacy of domestic life, was not a person to be 
 assailed with a light heart, but in company, when to 
 some extent she must keep her temper under control, 
 more might be dared.
 
 A MORNING SERVICE 151 
 
 She shifted her chair a little, with her a familiar sign 
 of war, and while searching for a repartee which would 
 be sufficiently crushing, cast on Stephen a glance that 
 might have turned wine into vinegar. 
 
 Somewhat tremulously, for unless the fire could be 
 damped before it got full hold, she knew what they 
 might expect, the little hostess broke in with 
 
 " What a beautiful voice she has, hasn't she ? " 
 
 "Who ?" asked Eliza, pretending not to understand. 
 
 " Why, Miss Fregelius, of course." 
 
 " Oh, well, that is a matter of opinion." 
 
 "Hang it all, Eliza!" said her brother, "there can't 
 be two opinions about it, she sings like an angel." 
 
 " Do you think so, Stephen ? I should have said she 
 sings like an opera dancer." 
 
 " Always understood that their gifts lay in their legs 
 and not in their throats. But perhaps you mean a 
 prima donna," remarked Stephen reflectively. 
 
 " No, I don't. Prima donnas are not in the habit of 
 screeching at the top of their voices, and then stopping 
 suddenly to make an effect and attract attention." 
 
 "Certainly she attracted my attention, and I only 
 wish I could hear such screeching every day ; it would 
 be a great change." It may be explained that the 
 Layards were musical, and that each detested the music 
 of the other. 
 
 " Really, Stephen," rejoined Eliza, with sarcasm as 
 awkward as it was meant to be crushing, " I shall have 
 to tell Jane Rose that she is dethroned, poor dear 
 beaten out of the field by a hymn-tune, a pair of brown 
 eyes, and a black silk fichu." 
 
 This was a venomous stab, since for a distance of ten
 
 152 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 miles round everyone with ears to hear knew that 
 Stephen's admiration of Miss Rose had not ended 
 prosperously for Stephen. The poisoned knife sank 
 deep, and its smart drove the little pale-eyed man to 
 fury. 
 
 " You can tell her what you like, Eliza," he replied, 
 for his self-control was utterly gone ; " but it won't be 
 much use, for she'll know what you mean. She'll know 
 that you are jealous of Miss Fregelius because she's so 
 good looking ; just as you are jealous of her, and of Mary 
 Porson, and of anybody else who dares to be pretty 
 and," with crushing meaning, " to look at Morris Monk." 
 
 Eliza gasped, then said in a tragic whisper, " Stephen, 
 you insult me. Oh ! if only we were at home, I would 
 tell you " 
 
 " I have no doubt you would you often do ; but I'm 
 not going home at present. I am going to the North- 
 wold hotel." 
 
 " Really," broke in their hostess, almost wringing her 
 hands, " this is Sunday, Mr. Layard ; remember this is 
 Sunday." 
 
 " I am not likely to forget it," replied the maddened 
 Stephen ; but over the rest of this edifying scene we will 
 drop a veil. 
 
 Thus did the advent of Stella bring with it surprises, 
 rumours, and family dissensions. What else it brought 
 remains to be told.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 MR. LAYARD'S WOOING 
 
 THE days went by with an uneventful swiftness at the 
 Abbey, and after he had once accustomed himself to the 
 strangeness of what was, in effect, solitude in the house 
 with an unmarried guest of the other sex, it may be ad- 
 mitted, very pleasantly to Morris. At first that rather 
 remarkable young lady, Stella, had alarmed him some- 
 what, so that he convinced himself that the duties of 
 this novel hospitality would prove irksome. As a mat- 
 ter of fact, however, in forty-eight hours the irksome- 
 ness was all gone, to be replaced within twice that period 
 by an atmosphere of complete understanding, which was 
 comforting to his fearful soul. 
 
 The young lady was never in the way. Now that she 
 had procured some suitable clothes the young lady was 
 distinctly good looking ; she was remarkably intelligent 
 and well-read ; she sang, as Stephen Layard had said, 
 " like an angel " ; she took a most enlightened interest 
 in aerophones and their possibilities ; she proved a very 
 useful assistant in various experiments ; and made one 
 or two valuable suggestions. While Mary and the rest 
 of them were away the place would really be dull with- 
 out her, and somehow he could not be as sorry as he 
 ought when Dr. Charters told him that old Mr. Frege- 
 lius's bones were uniting with exceeding slowness. 
 
 '53
 
 154 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Such were the conclusions which one by one took 
 shape in the mind of that ill-starred man, Morris Monk. 
 As yet, however, let the student of his history under- 
 stand, they were not tinged with the slightest " arriere- 
 pensde." He did not guess even that such relations as 
 already existed between Stella and himself might lead 
 to grievous trouble ; that at least they were scarcely wise 
 in the case of a man engaged. 
 
 All he felt, all he knew, was that he had found 
 a charming companion, a woman whose thought, if 
 deeper, or at any rate different to his and not altogether 
 to be followed, was in tune with his. He could not 
 always catch her meaning, and yet that unrealised 
 meaning would appeal to him. Himself a very spiritual 
 man, and a humble seeker after truth, his nature did 
 intuitive reverence to one who appeared to be still more 
 spiritual, who, as he conjectured, at times at any rate, 
 had discovered some portion of the truth. He believed 
 it, although she had never told him so. Indeed that 
 semi-mystical side of Stella, whereof at first she had 
 shown him glimpses, seemed to be quite in abeyance; 
 she dreamed no more dreams, she saw no more visions, 
 or if she did she kept them to herself. Yet to him this 
 woman seemed to be in touch with that unseen which 
 he found it so difficult to weigh and appreciate. In- 
 stinctively he felt that her best thoughts, her most noble 
 and permanent desires, were there and not here. 
 
 As he had said to her in the boat, the old Egyptians 
 lived to die. In life a clay hut was for them a sufficient 
 lodging ; in death they sought a costly, sculptured tomb, 
 hewn from the living rock. With them these things 
 were symbolical, since that great people believed, with a
 
 MR. LAYAR&S WOOING 1 55 
 
 wonderful certainty, that the true life lay beyond. They 
 believed, too, that on the earth they did but linger in its 
 gateway, passing their time with such joy as they could 
 summon, baring their heads undismayed to the rain of 
 sorrow, because they knew that very soon they would be 
 crowned with eternal joys, whereof each of these sorrows 
 was but an earthly root. 
 
 Stella Fregelius reminded Morris of these old Egyptians. 
 Indeed, had he wished to carry the comparison from her 
 spiritual to her physical attributes it still might have been 
 considered apt, for in face she was somewhat Eastern. 
 Let the reader examine the portrait bust of the great 
 Queen Taia, clothed with its mysterious smile, which 
 adorns the museum in Cairo, and, given fair instead 
 of dusky skin, with certain other minor differences, 
 he will behold no mean likeness to Stella Fregelius. 
 However this may be, for if Morris saw the resem- 
 blance there were others who could not agree with him ; 
 doubtless although not an Eastern, ancient or modern, 
 she was tinged with the fatalism of the East, mingled 
 with a certain contempt of death inherited perhaps 
 from her northern ancestors, and an active, pervading 
 spirituality that was all her own. Yet her manners 
 were not gloomy, nor her air tragic, for he found 
 her an excellent companion, fond of children and 
 flowers, and at times merry in her own fashion. But 
 this gaiety of hers always reminded Morris of that 
 which is said to have prevailed in the days of the 
 Terror among those destined to the guillotine. Never 
 for one hour did she seem to forget the end. " ' Vanity 
 of vanities,' saith the Preacher"; and that lesson was 
 her watchword.
 
 156 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 One evening they were walking together upon the 
 cliff. In the west the sun had sunk, leaving a pale, 
 lemon-coloured glow upon the sky. Then far away over 
 the quiet sea, showing bright and large in that frosty air, 
 sprang out a single star. Stella halted in her walk, and 
 looked first at the sunset heaven, next at the solemn sea, 
 and last at that bright, particular star set like a diadem 
 of power upon the brow of advancing night. Morris, 
 watching her, saw the blood mantle to her pale face, 
 while the dark eyes grew large and luminous, proud, too, 
 and full of secret strength. At length his curiosity got 
 the better of him. 
 
 "What are you thinking of ? " he asked. 
 
 " Do you wish me to tell you ? " 
 
 " Yes, if you will." 
 
 " You will laugh at me." 
 
 " Yes as I laugh at that sky, and sea, and star." 
 
 " Well, then, I was thinking of the old, eternal differ- 
 ence between the present and the future." 
 
 " You mean between life and death ? " queried Morris, 
 and she nodded, answering : 
 
 " Between life and death, and how little people see or 
 think of it. They just live and forget that beneath 
 them lie their fathers' bones. They forget that in some 
 few days perhaps more, perhaps less other unknown 
 creatures will be standing above their forgotten bones, as 
 blind, as self-seeking, as puffed up with the pride of the 
 brief moment, and filled with the despair of their failure, 
 the glory of their success, as they are to-night." 
 
 " Perhaps," suggested Morris, " they say that while 
 they are in the world it is well to be of the world ; that 
 when they belong to the next it will be time to consider
 
 MR. LAYARWS WOOING 157 
 
 it. I am not sure that they are not right. I have heard 
 that view," he added, remembering a certain conversa- 
 tion with Mary. 
 
 " Oh, don't think that ! " she answered, almost implor- 
 ingly ; " for it is not true, really it is not true. Of course, 
 the next world belongs to all, but our lot in it does not 
 come to us by right, that must be earned." 
 
 " The old doctrine of our Faith," suggested Morris. 
 
 " Yes ; but, as I believe, there is more behind, more 
 which we are not told ; that we must find out for our- 
 selves with ' groanings which cannot be uttered ; by hope 
 we are saved.' Did not St. Paul hint at it ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean that as our spirit sows, so shall it reap ; as it 
 imagines and desires, so shall it inherit. It is here that 
 the soul must grow, not there. As the child comes into 
 the world with a nature already formed, and its blood 
 filled with gifts of strength or weakness, so shall the 
 spirit come into its world wearing the garment that it 
 has woven and which it cannot change." 
 
 " The garment that it has woven," said Morris. " That 
 means free will, and how does free will chime in with 
 your fatalism, Miss Fregelius ? " 
 
 " Perfectly ; the material given us to weave with, that 
 is Fate ; the time which is allotted for the task, that is 
 Fate again ; but the pattern is our own. Here are 
 brushes, here is pigment, so much of it, of such and 
 such colours, and here is light to work by. ' Now paint 
 your picture,' says the Master ; ' paint swiftly, with such 
 skill as you can, not knowing how long is allotted for 
 the task.' And so we weave, and so we paint, every 
 one of us every one of us."
 
 158 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " What is your picture, Miss Fregelius ? Tell me, if 
 you will." 
 
 She laughed, and drew herself up. " Mine, oh ! it is 
 large. It is to reign like that star. It is to labour for- 
 ward from age to age at the great tasks that God shall 
 set me; to return and bow before His throne crying, 
 ' It is done. Behold, is the work good ? ' For the 
 hour that they endure it is still to be with those whom 
 I have loved on earth, although they cannot see me; 
 to soothe their sorrows, to support their weakness, to 
 lull their fears. It is that the empty longing and daily 
 prayer may be filled, and filled, and filled again, like a 
 cup from a stream which never ceases." 
 
 " And what is that daily prayer ? " asked Morris, 
 looking at her. 
 
 " O ! God, touch me with Thy light, and give me 
 understanding yes, understanding the word encloses 
 all I seek," she replied, then, checking herself, added in 
 a changed voice, " Come, let us go home ; it is foolish to 
 talk long of such things." 
 
 Shortly after this curious conversation, which was never 
 renewed between them, or, at least, but once, a new ele- 
 ment entered into the drama, the necessary semi-comic 
 element without which everything would be so dull. 
 This fresh factor was the infatuation, which possibly 
 the reader may have foreseen, of the susceptible, impul- 
 sive little man, Stephen Layard, for Stella Fregelius, 
 the lady whose singing he had admired, and who had 
 been a cause of war between him and his sister. Like 
 many weak men, Stephen Layard was obstinate, also 
 from boyhood up he had suffered much at the hands
 
 MR. LAYAR&S WOOING 159 
 
 of Eliza, who was not, in fact, quite so young as she 
 looked. Hence there arose in his breast a very natural 
 desire for retaliation. Eliza had taken a violent dislike 
 to Miss Fregelius, whom he thought charming. This 
 circumstance in their strained relations was reason 
 enough to induce Stephen to pay court to her, even if 
 his natural inclination had not made the adventure very 
 congenial. 
 
 Therefore, on the first opportunity he called at the 
 Abbey to ask after the rector, to be, as he had hoped, 
 received by Stella. Finding his visit exceedingly agree- 
 able, after a day or two he repeated it, and this time was 
 conducted to the old clergyman's bedroom, upon whom 
 his civility made a good impression. 
 
 Now, as it happened, although he did not live in 
 Monksland, Mr. Layard was one of the largest property 
 owners in the parish, a circumstance which he did not 
 fail to impress upon the new rector. Being by nature 
 and training a hard-working man who wished to do his 
 best for his cure even while he lay helpless, Mr. Frege- 
 lius welcomed the advances of this wealthy young gentle- 
 man with enthusiasm, especially when he found that he 
 was no niggard. A piece of land was wanted for the 
 cemetery. Mr. Layard offered to present an acre. 
 Money was lacking to pay off a debt upon the reading- 
 room. Mr. Layard headed the subscription list with a 
 handsome sum. And so forth. 
 
 Now the details of these various arrangements could 
 not conveniently be settled without many interviews, 
 and thus very soon it came about that scarcely a day 
 went by upon which Mr. Layard's dog-cart did not pass 
 through the Abbey gates. Generally he came in the
 
 160 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 morning and stopped to lunch ; or he came in the after- 
 noon and stopped to tea. In fact, or thus it seemed to 
 Morris, he always stopped to something, so much so 
 that although not lacking in hospitality, at times Morris 
 found his presence wearisome, for in truth the two men 
 had nothing in common. 
 
 "He must have turned over a new leaf with a ven- 
 geance, for he never would give a sixpence to anything 
 during old Tomley's time," remarked Morris to Stella. 
 " I suppose that he has taken a great fancy to your 
 father, which is a good thing for the parish, as those 
 Layards are richer than Croesus." 
 
 " Yes," answered Stella with a curious little smile. 
 
 But to herself she did not smile ; for, if Morris found 
 his visitor a bore, to Stella he was nothing short of an 
 infliction, increased rather than mitigated by numerous 
 presents of hot-house fruit and flowers offered to herself, 
 and entailing, each of them, an expression of thanks 
 verbal or written. At first she treated the thing as a 
 joke, till it grew evident that her admirer was as much 
 in earnest as his nature would permit. Thereon, fore- 
 seeing eventualities, she became alarmed. 
 
 Unless some means could be found to stop him it 
 was now clear to Stella that Mr. Layard meant to 
 propose to her, and as she had not the slightest inten- 
 tion of accepting him this was an honour which she 
 did not seek. But she could find no sufficient means ; 
 hints, and even snubs, only seemed to add fuel to the 
 fire, and of a perpetual game of hide and seek she grew 
 weary. 
 
 So it came about that at last she shrugged her shoul- 
 ders and left things to take their chance, finding some
 
 MR. LAYAR&S WOOING l6l 
 
 consolation for her discomfort in the knowledge that 
 Miss Layard, convinced that the rector's daughter was 
 luring her inexperienced brother into an evil matri- 
 monial net, could in no wise restrain her rage and 
 indignation. So openly did this lady express her views, 
 indeed, that at length a report of them reached even 
 Morris's inattentive ears, whereon he was at first very 
 angry and then burst out laughing. That a man like 
 Stephen Layard should hope to marry a woman like 
 Stella Fregelius seemed to him so absurd as to be 
 almost unnatural. Yet when he came to think it over 
 quietly he was constrained to admit to himself that the 
 match would have many advantages for the young lady, 
 whereof the first and foremost were that Stephen was 
 very rich, and although slangy and without education in 
 its better sense, at heart by no means a bad little fellow. 
 So Morris shrugged his shoulders, shut his eyes, con- 
 tinued to dispense luncheons and afternoon teas, and 
 though with an uneasy mind, like Stella herself, allowed 
 things to take their chance. 
 
 All this while, however, his own friendship with Stella 
 grew apace, enhanced as it was in no small degree by 
 the fact that now her help in his scientific operations had 
 become most valuable. Indeed, it appeared that he was 
 destined to owe the final success of his instrument to 
 the assistance of women who, at the beginning, at any 
 rate, knew little of its principles. Mary, it may be 
 remembered, by some fortunate chance, made the sug- 
 gestion as to the substance of the receiver, which turned 
 the aerophone from a great idea into a practical reality. 
 Now to complete the work it was Stella, not by accident, 
 but after careful study of its problem, who gave the
 
 1 62 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 thought that led to the removal of the one remaining 
 obstacle to its general and successful establishment. 
 
 To test this new development of the famous sound 
 deflector and perfect its details, scores of experiments 
 were needful, most of which he and she carried out 
 together. This was their plan. One of them estab- 
 lished him or herself in the ruined building known as 
 the Dead Church, while the other took up a position in 
 the Abbey workshop. From these respective points, a 
 distance of about two miles, they tested the machines with 
 results that day by day grew better and clearer, till at 
 length, under these conditions they were almost perfect. 
 
 Strange was the experience and great the triumph 
 when at last Morris, seated in the Abbey with his 
 apparatus before him, unconnected with its twin by any 
 visible medium, was able without interruption for a 
 whole morning to converse with Stella established in the 
 Dead Church. 
 
 " It is done," he cried in unusual exultation. " Now, 
 if I die to-morrow it does not matter." 
 
 Instantly came the answer in Stella's voice. 
 
 " I am very happy. If I do nothing else I have 
 helped a man to fame." 
 
 Then a hitch arose, the inevitable hitch ; it was found 
 that, in certain states of the atmosphere, and sometimes 
 at fixed hours of the day, the sounds coming from the 
 receiver were almost inaudible. At other times again 
 the motive force seemed to be so extraordinarily active 
 that, the sound deflector notwithstanding, the instru- 
 ment captured and transmitted a thousand noises which 
 are not to be heard by the unobservant listener, or in 
 some cases by any human ear.
 
 MR. LAYAR&S WOOING 163 
 
 Weird enough these noises were at times. Like great 
 sighs they came, like the moan of the breeze brought 
 from an infinite distance, like mutterings and groanings 
 arisen from the very bowels of the earth. Then there 
 were the splash or boom of the waves, the piping of the 
 sea-wind, the cry of curlew, or black-backed gulls, all 
 mingled in one strange and tangled skein of sound that 
 choked the voice of the speaker, and in their aggregate, 
 bewildered him who hearkened. 
 
 These, and others which need not be detailed, were 
 problems that had to be met, necessitating many more ex- 
 periments. Thus it came about that through most of the 
 short hours of winter daylight Morris and Stella found 
 themselves at their respective positions, corresponding, 
 or trying to correspond, through the aerophones. If the 
 weather was bad, or very cold, Morris went to the Dead 
 Church, otherwise that post was allotted to Stella, both 
 because it was more convenient that Morris should stay 
 in his laboratory, and by her own choice. 
 
 Two principal reasons caused her to prefer to pass as 
 much of her time as was possible in this desolate and 
 unvisited spot. First, because Mr. Layard was less 
 likely to find her when he called, and secondly, that for 
 her it had a strange fascination. Indeed, she loved the 
 place, clothed as it was with a thousand memories of 
 those who had been human like herself, but now were 
 not. She would read the inscriptions upon the chancel 
 stones and study the coats-of-arms and names of those 
 departed, trying to give to each lost man and woman a 
 shape and character, till at length she knew all the 
 monuments by appearance as well as by the names 
 inscribed upon them.
 
 1 64 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 One of these dead, oddly enough, had been named 
 Stella Ethel Smythe, daughter of Sir Thomas Smythe, 
 whose family lived at the old hall now in the possession 
 of the Layards. This Stella had died at the age of 
 twenty-five in the year 1741, and her tombstone recorded 
 that in mind she was clean and sweet, and in body beau- 
 tiful. Also at the foot of it was a doggerel couplet, 
 written probably by her bereaved father, which ran : 
 
 " Though here my Star seems set, 
 I know 'twill light me yet." 
 
 Stella, the live Stella, thought these simple words very 
 touching, and pointed them out to Morris. He agreed 
 with her, and tried in the records of the parish and else- 
 where to discover some details of the dead girl's life, 
 but quite without avail. 
 
 " There's all that's left," he said one day, nodding his 
 head at the tombstone. " The star is quite set." 
 
 " ' I know 'twill light me yet,' " murmured his com- 
 panion, as she turned away to the work in hand. 
 " Sometimes," she went on, " as I sit here at dusk 
 listening to all the strange sounds which come from 
 that receiver, I fancy that I can hear Stella and her 
 poor father talking while they watch me ; only I cannot 
 understand their language." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Morris, " if that were right we should 
 have found a means of communication from the dead 
 and with the unseen world at large." 
 
 "Why not?" asked Stella. 
 
 " I don't know, I have thought of it," he answered, 
 and the subject dropped.
 
 MR. LAYAR&S WOOING 1 65 
 
 One afternoon Stella, wrapped in thick cloaks, was 
 seated in the chancel of the Dead Church attending to 
 the instrument which stood upon the stone altar. Morris 
 had not wished her to go that morning, for the weather 
 was very coarse, and snow threatened ; but, anticipating 
 a visit from Mr. Layard, she insisted, saying that she 
 should enjoy the walk. Now the experiments were in 
 progress, and going beautifully. In order to test the 
 aerophones fully in this rough weather, Morris and Stella 
 had agreed to read to each other alternate verses from 
 the Book of Job, beginning at the thirty-eighth chapter. 
 
 " ' Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or 
 loose the bands of Orion ? ' " read Stella presently in her 
 rich, clear voice. 
 
 Instantly from two miles away came the next verse, 
 the sound of those splendid words rolling down the old 
 church like echoes of some lesson read generations since. 
 
 " ' Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season, or 
 canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons ? ' ' 
 
 So it went on for a few more verses, till just as the 
 instrument was saying, " ' Who hath put wisdom in the 
 inward parts, or who hath given understanding to 
 the heart ? ' " the rude door in the brick partition opened, 
 admitting a rush of wind and Stephen Layard. 
 
 The little man sidled up nervously to where Stella 
 was sitting on a camp-stool by the altar. 
 
 " How do you do ? " said Stella, holding out her hand, 
 and looking surprised. 
 
 " How do you do, Miss Fregelius ? What what are 
 you doing in this dreadfully cold place on such a bitter 
 day ? " 
 
 Before she could answer the voice of Morris, anxious
 
 1 66 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 and irritated, for as the next verse did not follow he 
 concluded that something had gone wrong with the 
 apparatus, rang through the church asking : 
 
 " ' Who hath put wisdom in the inward parts, or who 
 hath given understanding to the heart ? ' ' 
 
 " Good gracious," said Mr. Layard. " I had no idea 
 that Monk was here ; I left him at the Abbey. Where 
 is he?" 
 
 "At the Abbey," answered Stella, as for the second 
 time the voice of Morris rolled out the question from 
 the Book. 
 
 " I don't understand," said Stephen, beginning to 
 look frightened ; " has it anything to do with his electri- 
 cal experiments ? " 
 
 Stella nodded. Then, addressing the instrument, said : 
 
 " Please stop reading for a while, Mr. Layard is call- 
 ing here." 
 
 " Confound him," came the swift answer. " Let me 
 know when he is gone. He said he was going home," 
 whereon Stella switched off before worse things 
 happened. 
 
 Mr. Layard, who had heard these words, began a 
 confused explanation till Stella broke in : 
 
 " Please don't apologise. You changed your mind, 
 and we all do that ; but I am afraid this is a cold place 
 to come to." 
 
 " You are right there. Why on earth do you sit here 
 so long ? " 
 
 " To work, Mr. Layard." 
 
 "Why should you work? I thought women hated it, 
 and above all, why for Monk ? Does he pay you ? " 
 
 " I work because I like work, and shall go on working
 
 MR. LAYAR&S WOOING 167 
 
 till I die, and afterwards I hope ; also, these experiments 
 interest me very much. Mr. Monk does not pay me. I 
 have never asked him to do so. Indeed, it is I who am 
 in his debt for all the kindness he has shown to my 
 father and myself. To any little assistance that I can 
 give him he is welcome." 
 
 " I see," said Mr. Layard ; " but I should have thought 
 that was Mary Porson's job. You know he is engaged 
 to her, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, but Miss Person is not here ; and if she were, 
 perhaps she would not care for this particular work." 
 
 Then came a pause, which, not knowing what this 
 awkward silence might breed, Stella broke. 
 
 " I suppose you saw my father," she said ; " how did 
 you find him looking ? " 
 
 " Oh ! better, I thought ; but that leg of his still seems 
 very bad." Then, with a gasp and a great effort, 
 he went on : "I have been speaking to him about 
 you." 
 
 " Indeed," said Stella, looking at him with wondering 
 eyes. 
 
 "Yes, and he says that if it suits us both, he is 
 quite willing ; that, in fact, he would be very pleased to 
 see you so well provided for." 
 
 Stella could not say that she did not understand, the 
 falsehood was too obvious. So she merely went on look- 
 ing, a circumstance from which Mr. Layard drew false 
 auguries. 
 
 "You know what I mean, don't you ? " he jerked out. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " I mean I mean that I love you, that you have 
 given me what this horrid thing was talking about just
 
 1 68 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 now understanding to the heart; yes, that's it, under- 
 standing to the heart. Will you marry me, Stella ? I 
 will make you a good husband, and it isn't a bad place, 
 and all that, and though your father says he has little 
 to leave you, you shall be treated as liberally as though 
 you were a lady in your own right." 
 
 Stella smiled a little. 
 
 " Will you marry me ? " he asked again. 
 
 " I am afraid that I must answer no, Mr. Layard." 
 
 Then the poor man broke out into a rhapsody of 
 bitter disappointment, genuine emotion, and passionate 
 entreaty. 
 
 " It is no use, Mr. Layard," said Stella at last. 
 " Indeed, I am much obliged to you. You have paid 
 me a great compliment, but it is not possible that I 
 should become your wife, and the sooner that is clear 
 the better for us both." 
 
 " Are you engaged ? " he asked. 
 
 " No, Mr. Layard ; and probably I never shall be. I 
 have my own ideas about matrimony, and the conditions 
 under which I would undertake it are not at all likely 
 ever to be within my reach." 
 
 Again he implored, for at the time this woman really 
 held his heart, wringing his hands, and, indeed, weep- 
 ing in the agony of a repulse which was the more dread- 
 ful because it was quite unexpected. He had scarcely 
 imagined that this poor clergyman's daughter, who had 
 little but her looks and a sweet voice, would really re- 
 fuse the best match for twenty miles round, nor had his 
 conversation with her father suggested to his mind any 
 such idea. 
 
 It was true that Mr. Fregelius had given him no abso-
 
 MR. LAYAR&S WOOING 169 
 
 lute encouragement; he had said that personally the 
 marriage would be very pleasing to himself, but that it 
 was a matter of which Stella must judge; and when 
 asked whether he would speak to his daughter, he had 
 emphatically declined. Still, Stephen Layard had taken 
 this to be all a part of the paternal formula, and rejoiced, 
 thinking the matter as good as settled. Dreadful in- 
 deed, then, was it to him when he found that he was 
 called upon to contemplate the dull obverse of his shield 
 of faith, and not its bright and shining face, in which 
 he had seen mirrored so clear a picture of perfect 
 happiness. 
 
 So he begged on piteously enough, till at last Stella 
 was forced to stop him by saying as gently as she 
 could : 
 
 " Please spare us both, Mr. Layard ; I have given my 
 answer, and I am sorry to say that it is impossible for 
 me to go back upon my word." 
 
 Then a sudden fury seized him. 
 
 " You are in love with somebody else," he said ; 
 " you are in love with Morris Monk ; and he is a 
 villain, when he is engaged, to go taking you too. I 
 know it." 
 
 " Then, Mr. Layard," said Stella, striving to keep her 
 temper, " you know more than I know myself." 
 
 "Very likely," he answered. "I never said you knew 
 it, but it's true, for all that. I feel it here where you 
 will feel it one day, to your sorrow " and he placed 
 his hand upon his heart. 
 
 A sudden terror took hold of her, but with difficulty 
 she found her mental balance. 
 
 " I hoped, Mr. Layard," she said, " that we might
 
 1 70 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 have parted friends ; but how can we when you bring 
 such accusations ? " 
 
 " I retract them," broke in the distracted man. "You 
 mustn't think anything of what I said; it is only the 
 pain that has made me mad. For God's sake, at least 
 let us part friends, for then, perhaps, some day we may 
 come together again." 
 
 Stella shook her head sadly, and gave him her hand, 
 which he covered with kisses. Then, reeling in his gait 
 like one drunken, the unhappy suitor departed into the 
 falling snow. 
 
 Mechanically Stella switched on the instrument, and 
 at once Morris's voice was heard asking: 
 
 " I say, hasn't he gone ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said. 
 
 " Thank goodness ! Why on earth did you keep him 
 gossiping all that time ? Now then ' Who can num- 
 ber the clouds in wisdom ' " 
 
 " Not Mr. Layard or I," thought Stella sadly to her- 
 self, as she called back the answering verse.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Two QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER 
 
 AT length the light began to fade, and for that day 
 their experiments were over. In token of their con- 
 clusion twice Stella rang the electric warning bell which 
 was attached to the aerophone, and in some mysterious 
 manner caused the bell of its twin instrument to ring 
 also. Then she packed the apparatus in its box, for, with 
 its batteries, it was too heavy and too delicate to be car- 
 ried conveniently, locking it up, and left the church, 
 which she also locked behind her. Outside it was still 
 snowing fast, but softly, for the wind had dropped, and a 
 sharp frost was setting in, causing the fallen snow to 
 scrunch beneath her feet. About half-way along the 
 bleak line of deserted cliff which stretched from the 
 Dead Church to the first houses of Monksland, she saw 
 the figure of a man walking swiftly towards her, and 
 knew from the bent head and broad, slightly stooping 
 shoulders that it was Morris coming to escort her home. 
 Presently they met. 
 
 " Why did you not wait for me ? " he asked in an 
 irritated voice, " I told you I was coming, and you 
 know that I do not like you to be tramping about these 
 lonely cliffs at this hour." 
 
 " It is very kind of you," she answered, smiling that 
 slow, soft smile which was characteristic of her when 
 
 171
 
 172 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 she was pleased, a smile that seemed to be born in her 
 beautiful eyes and thence to irradiate her whole face ; 
 " but it was growing dreary and cold there, so I thought 
 that I would start." 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " I forgot, and, what is more, it 
 is very selfish of me to keep you cooped up in such a 
 place upon a winter's day. Enthusiasm makes one for- 
 get everything." 
 
 " At least without it we should do nothing ; besides, 
 please do not pity me, for I have never been happier in 
 my life." 
 
 " I am most grateful," he said earnestly. " I don't 
 know what I should have done without you through this 
 critical time, or what I shall " and he stopped. 
 
 " It went beautifully to-day, didn't it ? " she broke in, 
 as though she had not heard his words. 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " beyond all expectations. We 
 must experiment over a greater distance, and then if the 
 thing still works I shall be able to speak with my critics 
 in the gate. You know I have kept everything as dark 
 as possible up to the present, for it is foolish to talk first 
 and fail afterwards. I prefer to succeed first and talk 
 afterwards." 
 
 " What a triumph it will be ! " said Stella. " All 
 those clever scientists will arrive prepared to mock, 
 then think they are taken in, and at last go away aston- 
 ished to write columns upon columns in the papers." 
 
 " And after that ? " queried Morris. 
 
 " Oh, after that, honour and glory and wealth and 
 power and the happy ending. Doesn't it sound 
 nice ? " 
 
 " Ye es, in a way. But," he added with energy, " it
 
 TWO QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER 173 
 
 won't come off. No, not the aerophones, they are right 
 enough I believe, but all the rest of it." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because it is too much. ' Happy endings ' don't 
 come off. The happiness lies in the struggle, you know, 
 an old saying, but quite true. Afterwards something 
 intervenes." 
 
 " To have struggled happily and successfully is happi- 
 ness in itself. Whatever comes afterwards nothing can 
 take that away. ' I have done something ; it is good ; 
 it cannot be changed ; it is a stone built for ever in 
 the pyramid of beauty, or knowledge, or advancement.' 
 What can man hope to say more at the last, and how few 
 live to say it, to say it truly? You will leave a great 
 name behind you, Mr. Monk." 
 
 " I shall leave my work ; that is enough for me," he 
 answered. 
 
 For a while they walked in silence ; then some thought 
 struck him, and he stopped to ask : 
 
 " Why did Layard come to the Dead Church to-day ? 
 He said he was going home, and it isn't on his road." 
 
 Stella turned her head, but, even in that faint light, not 
 quickly enough to prevent him seeing a sudden flush 
 change the pallor of her face to the rich colour of her 
 lips. 
 
 " To call, I suppose ; or," correcting herself, " perhaps 
 from curiosity." 
 
 " And what did he talk about ? " 
 
 "Oh, the aerophone, I think; I don't remember." 
 
 " That must be a story," he said, laughing. " I always 
 remember Layard's conversation for longer than I want ; 
 it has a knack of impressing itself upon me. What
 
 1/4 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 was it ? Cemetery land, church debts, the new drainage 
 scheme, or something equally entrancing and con- 
 fidential ? " 
 
 Under this cross-examination Stella grew desperate, 
 unnecessarily, perhaps, and said in a voice that was 
 almost cross : 
 
 " I cannot tell you; please let's talk of something else." 
 
 Then of a sudden Morris understood, and, like a 
 foolish man, at once jumped to a conclusion far other 
 than the truth. Doubtless Layard had gone to the 
 church to propose to Stella, and she had accepted him, 
 or half accepted him ; the confusion of her manner 
 told its own tale. A new and strange sensation took 
 possession of Morris. He felt unwell ; he felt angry ; if 
 the aerophone refused to work at all to-morrow, he would 
 care nothing. He could not see quite clearly, and was 
 not altogether sure where he was walking. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said in a cold voice, as he 
 recovered himself; "it was most impertinent of me." 
 He was going to add, " pray accept my congratulations," 
 but fortunately, or unfortunately, stopped himself in 
 time. 
 
 Stella divined something of what was passing in his 
 mind ; not all, indeed, for to her the full measure of his 
 folly would have been incomprehensible. For a mo- 
 ment she contemplated an explanation, then abandoned 
 the idea because she could find no words ; because, also, 
 this was another person's secret, and she had no right to 
 involve an honest man, who had paid her a great com- 
 pliment, in her confidences. So she said nothing. To 
 Morris, for the moment at any rate, a conclusive proof 
 of his worst suspicions.
 
 TWO QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER 175 
 
 The rest of that walk was marked by unbroken silence. 
 Both of them were very glad when it was finished. 
 
 It was five o'clock when they reached the Abbey, so 
 that there were two hours to be spent before it was 
 time to dress for dinner. When she had taken off her 
 things Stella went straight to her father's room to give 
 him his tea. By now Mr. Fregelius was much better, 
 although the nature of his injuries made it imperative 
 that he should still stay in bed. 
 
 " Is that you, Stella ? " he said, in his high, nervous 
 voice, and, although she could not see them in the 
 shadow of the curtain, she knew that his quick eyes 
 were watching her face eagerly. 
 
 " Yes, father, I have brought you your tea. Are you 
 ready for it ? " 
 
 " Thank you, my dear. Have you been at that place 
 what do you call it? the Dead Church, all day? " 
 
 "Yes, and the experiments went beautifully." 
 
 " Did they, did they indeed ? " commented her father 
 in an uninterested voice. The fate of the experiments 
 did not move him. "Isn't it very lonely up there in 
 that old church ? " 
 
 "I prefer to be alone generally." 
 
 " I know, I know. Forgive me ; but you are a very 
 odd woman, my dear." 
 
 "Perhaps, father; but not more so than those before 
 me, am I ? Most of them were a little different from 
 other people, I have been told." 
 
 "Quite right, Stella; they were all odd women, but I 
 think that you are quite the oddest of the family." 
 Then, as though the subject were disagreeable to him, he 
 added suddenly : " Mr. Layard came to see me to-day."
 
 1/6 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " So he told me," answered Stella. 
 
 "Oh, you have met him. I remember; he said he 
 should call in at the Dead Church, as he had something 
 to say to you." 
 
 Stella determined to get the conversation over, so she 
 forced the pace. She was a person who liked to have 
 disagreeable things behind her. Drawing herself up, 
 she answered steadily : 
 
 "He did call in, and he said it." 
 
 "What, my dear, what?" asked Mr. Fregelius in- 
 nocently. 
 
 " He asked me to marry him, father ; I think he told 
 me with your consent." 
 
 Mr. Fregelius, auguring the very best from this open- 
 ness, answered in tones which he could not prevent from 
 betraying an unseemly joy. 
 
 " Quite true, Stella ; I told him to go on and prosper ; 
 and really I hope he has prospered." 
 
 " Yes," said Stella reflectively. 
 
 "Then, my dear love, am I to understand that you are 
 engaged to him?" 
 
 "Engaged to him! Certainly not," she answered. 
 
 " Then," snapped out her justly indignant parent, " how 
 in the name of Heaven has he prospered?" 
 
 "By my refusing him, of course. We should never 
 have suited each other at all; he would have been miser- 
 able if I had married him." 
 
 Mr. Fregelius groaned in bitterness of spirit. 
 
 " Oh, Stella, Stella," he cried, "what a disappointment! " 
 
 "Why should you be disappointed, father dear?" she 
 asked gently. 
 
 "Why? You stand there and ask why, when I hear
 
 TWO QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER 177 
 
 that my daughter, who will scarcely have a sixpence 
 or at least very few of them has refused a young man 
 with between seventeen and eighteen thousand pounds 
 a year that's his exact income, for he told me himself, 
 a most estimable churchman, who would have been a 
 pillar of strength to me, a man whom I should have 
 
 chosen out of ten thousand as a son-in-law " and 
 
 he ceased, overwhelmed. 
 
 "Father, I am sorry that you are sorry, but it is 
 strange you should understand me so little after all these 
 years, that you could for one moment think that I should 
 marry Mr. Layard." 
 
 "And why not, pray? Are you better born 
 
 "Yes," interrupted Stella, whose one pride was that 
 of her ancient lineage. 
 
 " I didn't mean that. I meant better bred and gener- 
 ally superior to him ? You talk as though you were of 
 a different clay." 
 
 " Perhaps the clay is the same," said Stella, " but the 
 mind is not." 
 
 " Oh, there it is again, spiritual and intellectual pride, 
 which causes you to set yourself above your fellows, and 
 in the end will be your ruin. It has made a lonely 
 woman of you for years, and it will do worse than that. 
 It will turn you into an old maid if you live," he added, 
 as though shaken by some sudden memory. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Stella, " I am not frightened at the 
 prospect. I daresay that I shall have a little money, 
 and at the worst I can always earn a living ; my voice 
 would help me to it, if nothing else does. Father, dear, 
 you mustn't be vexed with me; and pray pray do under- 
 stand that no earthly thing would make me marry a man
 
 1/8 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 whom I dislike rather than otherwise; who, at least, is not 
 a mate for me, merely because he could give me a fine 
 house to live in, and treat me luxuriously. What would 
 be the good of such things to me if I knew that I had 
 tarnished myself and violated my instincts ? " 
 
 " You talk like a book you talk like a book," muttered 
 the old gentleman. " But I know that the end of it will be 
 wretchedness for everybody. People who go on as you 
 do about instincts, and fine feelings, and all that stuff, 
 are just the ones who get into some dreadful mess at last. 
 I tell you that such ideas are some of the devil's best 
 baits." 
 
 Stella began to grow indignant. 
 
 " Do you think, father, that you ought to talk to me 
 quite like that ? " she asked. " Don't you know me well 
 enough to be sure that I should never get into what you 
 call a mess at least, not in the way I suppose you 
 mean ? My heart and thought are my own, and I shall 
 be prepared to render account of them; for the rest, 
 you need not be afraid." 
 
 " I didn't mean that I didn't mean anything of the 
 sort " 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," broke in Stella. " It would 
 scarcely have been kind, especially as I am no longer a 
 child who needs to be warned against the dangers of the 
 world." 
 
 "What I did mean is that you are an enigma; that I 
 am frightened about you ; that you are no companion ; 
 because your thoughts yes, and at times your face, 
 too seem unnatural, unearthly, and separate you from 
 others, as they have separated you from this poor young 
 man."
 
 TWO QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER 179 
 
 " I am what I was made," answered Stella with a 
 little smile, " and I seek company where I can find it. 
 Some love the natural, some the spiritual, and each 
 receive from them their good. Why should they blame 
 one another ? " 
 
 " Mad," muttered her father to himself as she left the 
 room. " Mad as she is charming and beautiful ; or, if 
 not mad, at least quite impracticable and unfitted for the 
 world. What a disappointment to me what a bitter 
 disappointment! Well, I should be used to them by 
 now." 
 
 Meanwhile Morris was in his workshop in the old 
 chapel entering up his record of the day's experiments, 
 which done, he drew his chair to the stove and fell into 
 thought. Somehow the idea of the engagement of Miss 
 Fregelius to Stephen Layard was not agreeable to him ; 
 probably because he did not care about the young man. 
 Yet, now that he came to think of it quietly, in all her 
 circumstances it would be an admirable arrangement, 
 and the offer undoubtedly was one which she had been 
 wise to accept. On the whole, such a marriage would 
 be as happy as marriages generally are. The man was 
 honest, the man was young and rich, and very soon the 
 man would be completely at the disposal of his brilliant 
 and beautiful wife. 
 
 Personally he, Morris, would lose a friend, since a 
 woman cannot marry and remain the friend of another 
 man. That, however, would probably have happened in 
 any case, and to object on this account, even in his secret 
 heart, would be abominably selfish. Indeed, what right 
 had he even to consider the matter ? The young lady 
 had come into his life very strangely, and made a curious
 
 180 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 impression upon him ; she was now going out of it by 
 ordinary channels, and soon nothing but the impression 
 would remain. It was proper, natural, and the way of 
 the world ; there was nothing more to be said. 
 
 Somehow he was in a dreary mood, and everything 
 bored him. He fetched Mary's last letter. There was 
 nothing in it but some chit-chat, except the postscript, 
 which was rather longer than the letter, and ran : 
 
 " I am glad to hear the young lady whom you fished up 
 out of the sea is such an assistance to you in your experi- 
 ments. I gather from what I hear although you haven't 
 mentioned the fact that she is as beautiful as she is 
 charming, and that she sings wonderfully. She must 
 be something remarkable, I am sure, because Eliza 
 Layard evidently detests her, and says that she is trying 
 to ensnare the affections of that squire of dames, her 
 brother Stephen, now temporarily homeless after a visit 
 to Jane Rose. What will you do when you have to get 
 on without her ? I am afraid you must accustom your- 
 self to the idea, unless she would like to make a third in 
 the honeymoon party. Joking apart, I am exceedingly 
 grateful to her for all the help she has given you, and, 
 dear, dear Morris, more delighted than I can tell you to 
 learn that after all your years of patient labour you 
 believe success to be absolutely within sight. 
 
 " My father, I am sorry to say, is no better ; indeed, 
 although the doctors deny it, I believe he is worse, and 
 I see no prospect of our getting away from here at 
 present. However, don't let that bother you, and above 
 all, don't think of coming out to this place which makes 
 you miserable, and where you can't work. What a queer
 
 TWO QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER 181 
 
 manage you must be at the Abbey now! You and the 
 Star who has risen from the ocean she ought to have 
 been called Venus tete-a-tete, and the, I gather, rather 
 feeble and uninteresting old gentleman in bed upstairs. 
 I should like to see you when you didn't know. Why 
 don't you invent a machine to enable people at a distance 
 to see as well as to hear each other ? It would be very 
 popular and bring Society to utter wreck. Does the 
 Northern star she is Danish, isn't she ? make good 
 coffee, and how, oh ! how does she get on with the cook? " 
 
 Morris put down the letter and laughed aloud. Mary 
 was as amusing as ever, and he longed to see her again, 
 especially as he was convinced that she was really 
 bored out there at Beaulieu, with Mr. Porson sick, and 
 his father very much occupied with his own affairs. In 
 a moment he made up his mind ; he would go out and 
 see her. Of course, he could ill spare the time, but for 
 the present the more pressing of his experiments were 
 completed, and he could write up his " data " there. 
 Anyway, he would put in a fortnight at Beaulieu, and, 
 what is more, start to-morrow if it could be managed. 
 
 He went to the table and began a letter to Mary 
 announcing that she might expect to see him sometime 
 on the day that it reached her. When he had got so far 
 as this he remembered that the dressing bell had already 
 rung some minutes, and ran upstairs to change his clothes. 
 As he fastened his tie he thought to himself sadly 
 that this would be his last dinner with Stella Fregelius, 
 and as he brushed his hair he determined that unless 
 she had other wishes, it should be as happy as it could be 
 made. He would like this final meal to be the pleasant-
 
 1 82 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 est of all their meals, and although, of course, he had no 
 right to form an opinion on the matter, he thought that 
 perhaps she might like it, too. They were going to 
 part, to enter on different walks of life for now, be 
 it said, he had quite convinced himself that she was 
 engaged so let their parting memories of each other 
 be as agreeable as possible. 
 
 Meanwhile, Stella also had her reflections. Her con- 
 versation with her father had troubled her, more, per- 
 haps, than her remarks might have suggested. There 
 was little between this pair except the bond of blood, 
 which sometimes seems to be so curiously accidental, 
 so absolutely devoid of influence in promoting mutual 
 sympathies, or in opening the door to any deep and 
 real affection. Still, notwithstanding this lack of true 
 intimacy, Stella loved her father as she felt that he 
 loved her, and it gave her pain to be forced to cross his 
 wishes. She knew with what a fierce desire, although 
 he was ashamed to express all its intensity, he desired 
 that she should accept this, the first chance of wealthy 
 and successful marriage that had come her way, and the 
 anguish which her absolute refusal must have entailed 
 upon his heart. 
 
 Of course, it was very worldly of him, and therefore 
 reprehensible ; yet to a great extent she could sympa- 
 thise with his disappointment. At bottom he was a 
 proud man, although he repressed his pride and kept it 
 secret. He was an ambitious man, also, and his lot 
 had been confined to the humble tasks, absolutely 
 unrecognised beyond his parish, of a remotely-placed 
 country parson. Moreover, his family had been rich ; 
 he had been brought up to believe that he himself
 
 TWO QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER 183 
 
 would be rich, and then, owing to certain circumstances, 
 was doomed to pass his days in comparative poverty. 
 
 Even death had laid a heavy hand on him ; she was 
 the last of her race, and she knew he earnestly desired 
 that she should marry and bear children so that it 
 might not become extinct. And now this chance, 
 this princely chance, which, from his point of view, 
 seemed to fill every possible condition, had come un- 
 awares, like a messenger from Heaven, and she refused 
 its entertainment. Looked at through his eyes the 
 position was indeed cruel. 
 
 Yet, deeply as she sympathised with him in his disap- 
 pointment, Stella never for one moment wavered in her 
 determination. Marry Mr. Layard ! Her blood shrank 
 back to her heart at the very thought, and then rushed 
 to her neck and bosom in a flood of shame. No, she 
 was sorry, but that was impossible, a thing which no 
 woman should be asked to do against her will. 
 
 The subject wearied her, but as brooding on it could 
 not mend matters, she dismissed it from her mind, and 
 turned her thoughts to Morris. Why, she did not know, 
 but something had come between them ; he was vexed 
 with her, and what was more, disappointed ; she could 
 feel it well enough, and she found his displeasure pain- 
 ful. What had she done wrong, how had she offended 
 him ? Surely it could not be and once again that red 
 blush spread itself over face and bosom. He could not 
 believe that she had accepted the man ! He could never 
 have so grossly misunderstood her, her nature, her 
 ideas, everything about her ! And yet who knew what 
 he would or would not believe ? In some ways, as she 
 had already discovered, Mr. Monk was curiously simple.
 
 1 84 STELLA FREGELJUS 
 
 How could she tell him the truth without using words 
 which she did not desire to speak ? Here instinct came 
 to her aid. It might be done perhaps by making herself 
 as agreeable to him as possible, for surely he must know 
 that no girl would do her best to please one man when 
 she had just promised herself to another. So it came 
 about that quite innocently Stella determined to allay 
 her host's misgivings by this doubtful and dangerous 
 expedient. 
 
 To begin with, she put on her best dress a low bodice 
 of black silk relieved with white and a single scarlet 
 rose from the hothouse. Round her neck also, fastened 
 by a thin chain, she wore a large blood-red carbuncle 
 fashioned like a heart, and about her slender waist a 
 quaint girdle of ancient Danish silver, two of the orna- 
 ments which she had saved from the shipwreck. Her 
 dark and waving hah* she parted in the middle after a 
 new fashion, tying its masses in a heavy knot at the 
 back of her head, and thus adorned descended to the 
 library where Morris was awaiting her. 
 
 He stood leaning over the fire with his back towards 
 her, but hearing the sweep of a skirt turned round, and 
 as his eyes fell upon her, started a little. Never till he 
 saw her thus had he known how beautiful Stella was 
 at times. Quite without design his eyes betrayed his 
 thought, but with his lips he said merely as he offered 
 her his arm, 
 
 "What a pretty dress! Did it come out of North- 
 wold ? " 
 
 " The material did ; I made it up, and I am glad that 
 you think it nice." 
 
 This was a propitious beginning, and the dinner that
 
 TWO QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER 18$ 
 
 followed did not belie its promise. The conversation 
 turned upon one of the Norse sagas that Stella had 
 translated, for which Morris had promised to try to find a 
 publisher. Then abandoning the silence and reserve 
 which were habitual to him he began to talk, asking her 
 about her work and her past. She answered him freely 
 enough, telling him of her school days in Denmark, of 
 her long holiday visits to the old Danish grandmother, 
 whose memory stretched back through three genera- 
 tions, and whose mind was stored with traditions of men 
 and days now long forgotten. This particular saga, 
 she said, had, for instance, never been written in its 
 entirety till she took it down from the old dame's lips, 
 much as in the fifteenth century the Iceland sagas were 
 recorded by Snorro Sturleson and others. Even the 
 traditional music of the songs as they were sung centu- 
 ries ago she had received from her with their violin 
 accompaniments. 
 
 " I have one in the house," broke in Morris, " a violin 
 rather a good instrument; I used to play a little when 
 I was young. I wish, if you don't mind, that you would 
 sing them to me after dinner." 
 
 " I will try if you like," she answered, " but I don't 
 know how I shall get on, for my own old fiddle, to which I 
 am accustomed, went to the bottom with a lot of other 
 things in that unlucky shipwreck. You know we came 
 by sea because it seemed so cheap, and that was the end 
 of our economy. Fortunately, all our heavy baggage 
 and furniture were not ready, and escaped." 
 
 "I do not call it unlucky," said Morris with grave 
 courtesy, " since it gave me the honour of your acquain- 
 tance ; or perhaps I may say of your friendship."
 
 1 86 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " Yes," she answered, looking pleased ; " certainly you 
 may say of my friendship. It is owing to the man who 
 saved my life, is it not, with a great deal more that 
 I can never pay ? " 
 
 " Don't speak of it," he said. " That midnight sail was 
 my one happy inspiration, my one piece of real good 
 luck." 
 
 " Perhaps," and she sighed, "that is, for me, though 
 who can tell ? I have often wondered what made you 
 do it, there was so little to go on." 
 
 " I have told you, inspiration, pure inspiration." 
 
 " And what sent the inspiration, Mr. Monk ? " 
 
 " Fate, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes, I think it must be what we call fate if it 
 troubles itself about so small a thing as the life of one 
 woman." 
 
 Then, to change the subject, she began to talk of the 
 Northumberland moors and mountains, and of their 
 years of rather dreary existence among them, till 
 at length it was time to leave the table. This they 
 did together, for even then Morris drank very little 
 wine. 
 
 " May I get you the violin, and will you sing ? " he 
 asked eagerly, when they reached the library. 
 
 " If you wish it I will try." 
 
 " Then come to the chapel ; there is a good fire, and 
 it is put away there." 
 
 Presently they were in the ancient place, where 
 Morris produced the violin from the cupboard, and 
 having set a new string began to tune it. 
 
 " That is a very good instrument," said Stella, her 
 eyes shining, "you don't know what you have brought
 
 TWO QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER 187 
 
 upon yourself. Playing the violin is my pet insanity, 
 and once or twice since I have been here, when I wanted 
 it, I have cried over the loss of mine, especially as I 
 can't afford to buy another. Oh ! what a lovely night 
 it is ; look at the full moon shining on the sea and snow. 
 I never remember her so bright ; and the stars, too ; they 
 glitter like great diamonds." 
 
 "It is the frost," answered Morris. "Yes, every- 
 thing is beautiful to-night." 
 
 Stella took the violin, played a note or two, then 
 screwed up the strings to her liking. 
 
 "Do you really wish me to sing, Mr. Monk?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Of course ; more than I can tell you." 
 
 " Then, will you think me very odd if I ask you to turn 
 out the electric lamps ? I can sing best so. You stand 
 by the fire, so that I can see my audience; the moon 
 through this window will give me all the light I want." 
 
 He obeyed, and now she was but an ethereal figure, 
 with a patch of red at her heart, and a line of glimmer- 
 ing white from the silver girdle beneath her breast, on 
 whose pale face the moonbeams poured sweetly. For 
 a while she stood thus, and the silence was heavy in 
 that beautiful, dismantled place of prayer. Then she 
 lifted the violin, and from the first touch of the bow 
 Morris knew that he was in the presence of a mistress 
 of one of the most entrancing of the arts. Slow and 
 sweet came the plaintive, penetrating sounds, that 
 seemed to pass into his heart and thrill his every nerve. 
 Now they swelled louder, now they almost died away ; 
 and now, only touching the strings from time to time, 
 she began to sing in her rich, contralto voice. He could
 
 1 88 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 not understand the words, but their burden was clear 
 enough ; they were a lament, the lament of some sorrow- 
 ing woman, the sweet embodiment of an ancient and 
 forgotten grief thus embalmed in heavenly music. 
 
 It was done ; the echoes of the following notes of the 
 violin fainted and died among the carven angels of the 
 roof. It was done, and Morris sighed aloud. 
 
 " How can I thank you ? " he said. " I knew that 
 you were a musician, but not that you had such genius. 
 To listen to you makes a man feel very humble." 
 
 She laughed. " The voice is a mere gift, for which 
 no one deserves credit, although, of course, it can be 
 improved." 
 
 " If so, what of the accompaniment?" 
 
 "That is different; that comes from the heart and 
 hard work. Do you know that when I was under my 
 old master out in Denmark, who in his time was one of 
 the finest of violinists in the north of Europe, I often 
 played for five and sang for two hours a day ? Also, I 
 have never let the thing drop; it has been the consola- 
 tion and amusement of a somewhat lonely life. So, by 
 this time, I ought to understand my art, although there 
 remains much to be learnt." 
 
 " Understand it! Why, you could make a fortune on 
 the stage." 
 
 " A living, perhaps, if my voice will bear the con- 
 tinual strain. I daresay that some time I shall drift there 
 for the living not because I like the trade or have 
 any wish for popular success. It is a fact that I 
 had far rather sing alone to you here to-night, and know 
 that you are pleased, than be cheered by a whole opera 
 house full of strange people."
 
 TWO QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER 189 
 
 "And I oh, I cannot explain! Sing on, sing all 
 you can, for to-morrow I must go away." 
 
 " Go away! " she faltered. 
 
 " Yes ; I will explain to you afterwards. But please 
 sing while I am here to listen." 
 
 The words struck heavy on her heart, numbing it 
 why, she knew not. For a moment she felt helpless, as 
 though she could neither sing nor play. She did not 
 wish him to go ; she did not wish him to go. Her intel- 
 lect came to her aid. Why should he go ? Heaven had 
 given her power, and this man could feel its weight. 
 Would it not suffice to keep him from going? She 
 would try ; she would play and sing as she had never 
 done before ; sing till his heart was soft, play till his feet 
 had no strength to wander beyond the sound of the 
 sweet notes her art could summon from this instrument 
 of strings and wood. 
 
 So again she began, and played on, and on, and on, 
 from time to time letting the bow fall, to sing in a flood of 
 heavenly melody that seemed by nature to fall from her 
 lips, note after note, as dew or honey fall drop by drop 
 from the calyx of some perfect flower. How long did 
 she play and sing those sad, mysterious siren songs? 
 They never knew. The moon travelled on its appointed 
 course, and as its beams passed away gradually that 
 divine musician grew dimmer to his sight. Now only 
 the stars threw their faint light about her, but still she 
 played on, and on, and on. The music swelled, it told 
 of dead and ancient wars, " where all day long the noise 
 of battle rolled " ; it rose shrill and high, and in it rang 
 the scream of the Valkyries preparing the feast of Odin. 
 It was low, and sad, and tender, the voice of women
 
 190 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 mourning for their dead. It changed ; it grew un- 
 earthly, spiritualised, such music as those might use 
 who welcome souls to their long home. Lastly, it be- 
 came rich and soft and far as the echo of a dream, and 
 through it could be heard sighs and the broken words 
 of love, that slowly fell away and melted as into the 
 nothingness of some happy sleep. 
 
 The singer was weary; her fingers could no longer 
 guide the bow ; her voice grew faint. For a moment, 
 she stood still, looking in the flicker of the fire and the 
 pale beams of the stars like some searcher returned 
 from heaven to earth. Then, half fainting, down she 
 sank upon a chair. 
 
 Morris turned on the lamps, and looked at this fair 
 being, this chosen home of Music, who lay before him 
 like a broken lily. Then back into his heart with a 
 chilling shock came the thought that this woman, to 
 him at least the most beautiful and gifted his eyes had 
 seen, had promised herself in marriage to Stephen Lay- 
 ard ; that she, her body, her mind, her music all that 
 made her the Stella Fregelius whom he knew were the 
 actual property of Stephen Layard. Could it be true ? 
 Was it not possible that he had made some mistake ? that 
 he had misunderstood ? A burning desire came upon 
 him to know, to know before he went, and upon the 
 forceful impulse of that moment he did what at any 
 other time would have filled him with horror. He asked 
 her ; the words broke from his lips ; he could not help 
 them. 
 
 "Is it true," he said, with something like a groan, 
 " can it be true that you yoii are really going to 
 marry that man ? "
 
 TWO QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER 191 
 
 Stella sat up and looked at him. So she had guessed 
 aright. She made no pretence of fencing with him, 
 or of pretending that she did not know to whom he 
 referred. 
 
 " Are you mad to ask me such a thing ? " she 
 asked, with a strange break in her voice. 
 
 " I am sorry," he began. 
 
 She stamped her foot upon the ground. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, " it hurts me, it hurts from my father 
 I understood, but that you should think it possible that 
 I would sell myself I tell you that it hurts," and as 
 she spoke two large tears began to roll from her lovely, 
 pleading eyes. 
 
 " Then you mean that you refused him ? " 
 
 "What else?" 
 
 " Thank you. Of course, I have no right to interfere, 
 but forgive me if I say that I cannot help feeling glad. 
 Even if it is taken on the ground of wealth you can 
 easily make as much money as you want without him," 
 and he glanced at the violin which lay beside her. 
 
 She made no reply, the subject seemed to have passed 
 from her mind. But presently she lifted her head again, 
 and in her turn asked a question. 
 
 "Did you not say that you are going away to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 Then something happened to the heart and brain and 
 tongue of Morris Monk so that he could not speak the 
 thing he wished. He meant to answer a monosyllable 
 " Yes," but in its place he replied with a whole sentence. 
 
 "I was thinking of doing so; but after all I do not 
 know that it will be necessary ; especially in the middle 
 of our experiments."
 
 192 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Stella said nothing, not a single word. Only she 
 found her handkerchief, and without in the least attempt- 
 ing to hide them, there before his eyes wiped the two 
 tears off her face, first one and then the other. 
 
 This done she held out her hand to him and left the 
 room.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL 
 
 NEXT morning Morris and Stella met at breakfast as 
 usual, but as though by mutual consent neither of them 
 alluded to the events of the previous evening. Thus 
 the name of Mr. Layard was " taboo," nor were any 
 more questions asked, or statements volunteered as to 
 that journey, the toils of which Morris had suddenly 
 discovered he was after all able to avoid. This morning, 
 as it chanced, no experiments were carried on, principally 
 because it was necessary for Stella to spend the day in 
 the village doing various things on behalf of her father, 
 and lunching with the wife of Dr. Charters, who was one 
 of the churchwardens. 
 
 By the second post, which arrived about three o'clock, 
 Morris received two letters, one from his father and one 
 from Mary. There was something about the aspect of 
 these letters that held his eye. That from his father 
 was addressed with unusual neatness, the bold letters 
 being written with all the care of a candidate in a cali- 
 graphic competition. The stamps also were affixed very 
 evenly, and the envelope was beautifully sealed with the 
 full Monk coat done in black wax. These, as experience 
 told him, were signs that his father had something 
 important to communicate, since otherwise everything
 
 194 STELLA FR EG ELI US 
 
 connected with his letters was much more casual. 
 Further, to speak at hazard, he should judge that this 
 matter, whatever it might be, was not altogether dis- 
 agreeable to the writer. 
 
 Mary's letter also had its peculiarities. She always 
 wrote in a large, loose scrawl, running the words into 
 one another after the idle fashion which was an index to 
 her character. In this instance, however, the fault had 
 been carried to such an extreme that the address was 
 almost illegible ; indeed, Morris wondered that the letter 
 had not been delayed. The stamps, too, were affixed 
 anyhow, and the envelope barely closed. 
 
 " Something has happened," he thought to himself. 
 Then he opened Mary's letter. It was dated Tuesday, 
 that is, two days before, and ran : 
 
 " DEAREST, My father is dead, my poor old father, 
 and now I have nobody but you left in the world. Thank 
 God, at the last he was without pain and, they thought, 
 insensible ; but I know he wasn't, because he squeezed 
 my hand. Some of his last words that could be under- 
 stood were, ' Give my love to Morris.' Oh ! I feel as 
 though my heart would break. After my mother's death 
 till you came into my life, he was everything to me 
 everything, everything. I can't write any more. 
 " Your loving 
 
 " MARY. 
 
 " P.S. Don't trouble to come out here. It is no good. 
 He is to be buried to-morrow, and next day I am going 
 ' en retraite ' for a month, as I must have time to get 
 over this to accustom myself to not seeing him every 
 morning when I come down to breakfast You remember
 
 THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL 195 
 
 my French friend, Gabrielle d'Estree ? Well ; she is a 
 nun now, a sub-something or other in a convent near 
 here where they take in people for a payment. Some- 
 how she heard my father was dead, and came to see me, 
 and offered to put me up at the convent, which has a 
 beautiful large garden, for I have been there. So I said 
 yes, for I shan't feel lonely with her, and it will be a 
 rest for a month. I shall write to you sometimes, and 
 you needn't be afraid, they won't make me a Roman 
 Catholic. Your father objected at first, but now he 
 quite approves ; indeed, I told him at last that I meant 
 to go whether he approved or not. It seems it doesn't 
 matter from a business point of view, as you and he are 
 left executors of my father's will. When the month is up 
 I will come to England, and we will settle about getting 
 married. This is the address of the convent as nearly 
 as I can remember it. Letters will reach me there." 
 
 Morris laid down the sheet with a sad heart, for he 
 had been truly attached to his uncle Porson, whose 
 simple virtues he understood and appreciated. Then he 
 opened his father's letter, which began in an imposing 
 manner : 
 
 " MY DEAR SON (usually he called him Morris), It 
 is with the deepest grief that I must tell you that poor 
 John Porson, your uncle, passed away this morning about 
 ten o'clock. I was present at the time, and did my best 
 to soothe his last moments with such consolations as 
 can be offered by a relative who is not a clergyman. I 
 wished to wire the sad event to you, but Mary, in whom 
 natural grief develops a self-will that perhaps is also 
 natural, peremptorily refused to allow it, alleging that it
 
 196 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 was useless to alarm you and waste money on telegrams 
 (how like a woman to think of money at such a moment) 
 when it was quite impossible that you could arrive here 
 in time for the funeral (for he wouldn't be brought 
 home), which, under these queer foreign regulations, 
 must take place to-morrow. Also she announced, to my 
 surprise, and, I must admit, somewhat to my pain, that 
 she intended to immure herself for a month in a convent, 
 after the fashion of the Roman faith, so that it was no 
 use your coming, as men are not admitted into these 
 places. It never seems to have occurred to her that 
 under this blow I should have liked the consolation of 
 her presence, or that I might wish to see you, my son. 
 Still, you must not think too much of all this, although I 
 have felt bound to bring it to your notice, since women 
 under such circumstances are naturally emotional, rebel- 
 lious against the decrees of Providence, and conse- 
 quently somewhat selfish. 
 
 "To turn to another subject. I am glad to be able to 
 inform you you will please accept this as an official 
 notice of the fact that on reading a copy of your 
 uncle's will, which by his directions was handed to me 
 after his death, I find that he has died much better off 
 even than I expected. The net personalty will amount 
 to quite ; 100,000, and there is large realty, of which 
 at present I do not know the value. All this is left to 
 Mary with the fullest possible powers of disposal. You 
 and I are appointed executors with a complimentary 
 legacy of ^500 to you, and but ;ioo to me. How- 
 ever, the testator ' in consideration of the forthcoming 
 marriage between his son Morris and my daughter 
 Mary, remits all debts and obligations that may be due
 
 THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL 197 
 
 to his estate by the said Richard Monk, Lieutenant- 
 Colonel, Companion of the Bath, and an executor of 
 this will.' This amounts to something, of course, but 
 I will not trouble you with details at the moment. 
 
 " After all, now that I come to think of it, it is as well 
 that you should not leave home at present, as there will 
 be plenty of executor's business to keep you on the spot. 
 No doubt you will hear from your late uncle's lawyers, 
 Thomas and Thomas, and as soon as you do so you had 
 better go over to Seaview and take formal possession of 
 it and its contents as an executor of the will. I have no 
 time to write more at present, as the undertaker is wait- 
 ing to see me about the last arrangements for the inter- 
 ment, which takes place at the English cemetery here. 
 The poor man has gone, but at least we may reflect that 
 he can be no more troubled by sickness, etc., and it is a 
 consolation to know that he has made arrangements so 
 eminently proper under the circumstances. 
 
 " Your affectionate father, 
 
 " RICHARD MONK. 
 
 "P.S. I shall remain here for a little while so as 
 to be near Mary in case she wishes to see me, and after- 
 wards work homewards via Paris. I expect to turn up 
 at the Abbey in a fortnight's time or so." 
 
 " Quite in his best style," reflected Morris to himself. 
 " ' Remits all debts and obligations that may be due to 
 his estate by the said Richard Monk.' I should be sur- 
 prised if they don't amount to a good lot. No wonder 
 my father is going to return via Paris; he must feel 
 quite rich again." 
 
 Then he sat down to write to Mary.
 
 198 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Under the pressure of this sudden blow for the fact 
 that Mr. Person had been for some time in failing 
 health, and the knowledge that his life might terminate 
 at any time, did not seem to make it less sudden a 
 cloud of depression settled on the Abbey household. 
 Before dinner Morris visited Mr. Fregelius, and told him 
 of what had happened ; whereon that pious and kindly, 
 but somewhat inefficient man, bestowed upon him a well- 
 meant lecture of consolation. Appreciating his motives, 
 Morris thanked him sincerely, and was rising to depart, 
 when the clergyman added : 
 
 " It is most grievous to me, Mr. Monk, that in these 
 sad hours of mourning you should be forced to occupy 
 your mind with the details of an hospitality which has 
 been forced upon you by circumstances. For the pres- 
 ent I fear that this cannot be altered " 
 
 " I do not wish it altered," interrupted Morris. 
 
 " It is indeed kind of you to say so, but I am happy 
 to state the doctor tells me if I continue to progress 
 as well as at present, I shall be able to leave your 
 roof " 
 
 " My father's roof," broke in Morris again. 
 
 " I beg pardon your father's roof in about a fort- 
 night." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it, sir ; and please clear your 
 mind of the idea that you have ceased to be welcome. 
 Your presence and that of Miss Fregelius will lessen, 
 not increase, my trouble. I should be lonely in this great 
 place with no company but that of my own thoughts." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so. Whether you feel it 
 or not you are kind, very kind." 
 
 And so for the while they parted. When she came
 
 THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL 199 
 
 in that afternoon Mr. Fregelius told Stella the news ; but, 
 as it happened, she did not see Morris until she met him 
 at dinner time. 
 
 " You have heard ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes," she answered ; " and I am sorry, so sorry. 
 I do not know what more to say." 
 
 "There is nothing to be said," answered Morris; 
 " my poor uncle had li ved out his life he was sixty- 
 eight, you know, and there is an end." 
 
 " Were you fond of him ? Forgive me for asking, but 
 people are not always fond really fond of those who 
 happen to be their relations." 
 
 " Yes, I was very fond of him. He was a good man, 
 though simple and self-made ; very kind to everybody ; 
 especially to myself." 
 
 " Then do not grieve for him, his pains are over, and 
 some day you will meet him again, will you not ? " 
 
 " I suppose so ; but in the presence of death faith 
 falters." 
 
 "I know; but I think that is when it should be 
 strongest and clearest, that is when we should feel that 
 whatever else is unreal and false, this is certain and true." 
 
 Morris bowed his head in assent, and there was silence 
 for a while. 
 
 "I am afraid that Miss Person must feel this very 
 much," Stella said presently. 
 
 " Yes, she seems quite crushed. She was his only liv- 
 ing child, you know." 
 
 " Are you not going to join her ? " 
 
 " No, I cannot ; she has gone into a convent for a 
 month, near Beaulieu, and I am afraid the Sisters would 
 not let me through their gates."
 
 200 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " Is she a Catholic ? " 
 
 " Not at all, but an old friend of hers holds some high 
 position in the place, and she has taken a fancy to be 
 quiet there for a while." 
 
 " It is very natural," answered Stella, and nothing 
 more was said upon the subject. 
 
 Stella neither played the violin nor sang that night, 
 nor, indeed, again while she remained alone with Morris 
 at the Abbey. Both of them felt that under the circum- 
 stances this form of pleasure would be out of place, if 
 not unfeeling, and it was never suggested. For the 
 rest, however, their life went on as usual. On two or 
 three occasions when the weather was suitable some 
 further experiments were carried out with the aero- 
 phone, but on most days Stella was engaged in prepar- 
 ing the Rectory, a square, red-brick house, dating from 
 the time of George III., to receive them as soon as 
 her father could be moved. Very fortunately, as has 
 been said, their journey in the steamer Trondhjem had 
 been decided upon so hurriedly that there was no time 
 to allow them to ship their heavy baggage and furniture, 
 which were left to follow, and thus escaped destruction. 
 Now at length these had arrived, and the unpacking 
 and arrangement gave her constant thought and occu- 
 pation, in which Morris occasionally assisted. 
 
 One evening, indeed, he stayed in the Rectory with her, 
 helping to hang some pictures till about half-past six 
 o'clock, when they started for the Abbey. As it chanced, 
 a heavy gale was blowing that night, one of the furious 
 winter storms which are common on this coast, and its 
 worst gusts beat upon Stella so fiercely that she could 
 scarcely stand, and was glad to accept the support of
 
 THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL 2OI 
 
 Morris's arm. As they struggled along the high road 
 thus, a particularly savage blast tore the hood of Stella's 
 ulster from her head, whereupon, leaning over her in 
 such a position that his face was necessarily quite close 
 to her own, with some difficulty he managed to replace 
 the hood. 
 
 It was while Morris was so engaged that a dog-cart, 
 which because of the roar of the wind he did not hear, 
 and because of his position he could not see until it was 
 almost passing them, came slowly down the road. 
 
 Then catching the gleam of the lamps he looked up 
 and started back, thinking that they were being run into, 
 to perceive that the occupants of the dog-cart were 
 Stephen and Eliza Layard. 
 
 At the same moment Stephen recognised them, as 
 indeed he could scarcely help doing with the light of 
 the powerful lamp shining full upon their faces. He 
 shouted something to his sister, who also stared coldly 
 at the pair. Then a kind of fury seemed to seize 
 the little man ; at any rate, he shook his clenched fist 
 in a menacing fashion, and brought down the whip 
 with a savage cut upon the horse. As the animal 
 sprang forward, moreover, Morris could almost have 
 sworn that he heard the words " kissing her," spoken in 
 Stephen's voice, followed by a laugh from Eliza. 
 
 Then the dog-cart vanished into the darkness, and the 
 incident was closed. 
 
 For a moment Morris stood angry and astonished, 
 but reflecting that in this wind his ears might have 
 deceived him, and that, at any rate, Stella had heard 
 nothing through her thick frieze hood, he once more 
 offered his arm and walked forward.
 
 202 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 The next day was Sunday, when, as usual, he escorted 
 Stella to church. The Layards were there also, but he 
 noticed that, somewhat ostentatiously, they hurried from 
 the building immediately on the conclusion of the ser- 
 vice, and it struck him that this demonstration might 
 have some meaning. Eliza, whom he afterwards ob- 
 served, engaged apparently in eager conversation with 
 a knot of people on the roadway, was, as he knew 
 well, no friend to him, for reasons which he could 
 guess. Nor, as he had heard from various quarters, was 
 she any friend of Stella Fregelius, any more than she 
 had been to Jane Rose. It struck him that even now 
 she might be employed in sowing scandal about them 
 both, and for Stella's sake the thought made him furi- 
 ous. But even if it were so he did not see what he 
 could do ; therefore he tried to think he was mistaken, 
 and to dismiss the matter from his mind. 
 
 Colonel Monk had written to say that he was com- 
 ing home on the Wednesday, but he did not, in fact, put 
 in an appearance till the half-past six train on the fol- 
 lowing Saturday evening, when he arrived beautifully 
 dressed in the most irreproachable black, and in a very 
 good temper. 
 
 " Ah, Morris, old fellow," he said, " I am very pleased 
 to see you again. After all, there is no place like 
 home, and at my time of life nothing to equal quiet. I 
 can't tell you how sick I got of that French hole. If 
 it hadn't been for Mary, and my old friend, Lady Raw- 
 lins, who, as usual, was in trouble with that wretched 
 husband of hers he is an imbecile now, you know 
 I should have been back long before. Well, how are 
 you getting on ? "
 
 THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL 203 
 
 "Oh, pretty well, thank you, father," Morris an- 
 swered, in that rather restrained voice which was natu- 
 ral to him when conversing with his parent. " I think, 
 I really think I have nearly perfected my aerophone." 
 
 " Have you ? Well, then, I hope you will make some- 
 thing out of it after all these years ; not that it much 
 matters now, however," he added contentedly. " By the 
 way, that reminds me, how are our two guests, the new 
 parson and his daughter ? That was a queer story 
 about your finding her on the wreck. Are they still 
 here ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but the old gentleman is out of bed now, and 
 he expects to be able to move into the Rectory on 
 Monday." 
 
 " Does he ? Well, they must have given you some 
 company while you were alone. There is no time like 
 the present. I will go up and see him before I dress 
 for dinner." 
 
 Accordingly Morris conducted his father to the 
 Abbot's chamber, and introduced him to the clergyman. 
 Mr. Fregelius was seated in his arm-chair, with a crutch 
 by his side, and on learning who his visitor was, made 
 a futile effort to rise. 
 
 " Pray, pray, sir," said the Colonel, " keep seated, 
 or you will certainly hurt your leg again." 
 
 "When I should be obliged to inflict myself upon 
 you for another five or six weeks," replied Mr. 
 Fregelius. 
 
 " In that case, sir," said the Colonel, with his most 
 courteous bow, " and for that reason only I should con- 
 sider the accident fortunate," by these happy words 
 making of his guest a devoted friend for ever.
 
 204 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " I don't know how to thank you ; I really don't know 
 how to thank you." 
 
 " Then pray, Mr. Fregelius, leave the thanks un- 
 spoken. What would you have had us or, rather, my 
 son do ? Turn a senseless, shattered man from his 
 door, and that man his future spiritual pastor and 
 master ? " 
 
 " But there was more. He, Mr. Monk, I mean, saved 
 my daughter Stella's life. You know, a block or a spar 
 fell on me immediately after the ship struck. Then 
 those cowardly dogs of sailors, thinking that she must 
 founder instantly, threw me into the boat and rowed 
 away, leaving her to her fate in the cabin ; whereon your 
 son, acting on some words which I spoke in my de- 
 lirium, sailed out alone at night and rescued her." 
 
 " Yes, I heard something, but Morris is not too com- 
 municative. The odd thing about the whole affair, so 
 far as I can gather, is that he should have discovered 
 that there was anybody left on board. But he is a 
 curious fellow, Morris ; those things which one would 
 expect him to know he never does know; and the 
 things that nobody else has ever heard of he seems to 
 have at his fingers' ends by instinct, or second sight, or 
 something. Well, it has all turned out for the best, 
 hasn't it ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I suppose so," answered Mr. Fregelius, 
 glancing at his injured leg. "At any rate, we are both 
 alive and have not lost many of our belongings." 
 
 " Quite so ; and under the circumstances you should 
 be uncommonly thankful. But I need not tell a parson 
 that. Well, I can only say that I am delighted to have 
 such a good opportunity of making your acquaintance,
 
 THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL 205 
 
 which I am sure will lead to our pulling together in 
 parish affairs like a pair of matched horses. Now I 
 must go and dress. But I tell you what, I'll come and 
 smoke a cigar with you afterwards, and put you au fait 
 with all our various concerns. You'll find them a nice 
 lot in this parish, I can tell you, a nice lot. Old Tom- 
 ley just gave them up as a bad job." 
 
 " I hope I shan't do that," replied Mr. Fregelius, after 
 his retreating form. 
 
 The Colonel was down to dinner first, and standing 
 warming himself at the library fire when Stella, once 
 more in honour of his arrival arrayed in her best 
 dress, entered the room. The Colonel put up his 
 eye-glass and looked at her as she came down its 
 length. 
 
 " By Jove ! " he thought to himself, " I didn't know 
 that the clergyman's daughter was like this ; nobody 
 ever said so. After all, that fellow Morris can't be 
 half such a fool as he looks, for he kept it dark." Then 
 he stepped forward with outstretched hand. 
 
 " You must allow me to introduce myself, Miss Frege- 
 lius," he said with an old-fashioned and courtly bow, 
 " and to explain that I have the honour to be my son's 
 father." 
 
 She bowed and answered : " Yes, I think I should 
 have known that from the likeness." 
 
 " Hum ! " said the Colonel. " Even at my age I am 
 not certain that I am altogether flattered. Morris is an 
 excellent fellow, and very clever at electrical machines ; 
 but I have never considered him remarkable for personal 
 beauty not exactly an Adonis, or an Apollo, or a Nar- 
 cissus, you know."
 
 206 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " I should doubt whether any of them had such a 
 nice face," replied Stella with a smile. 
 
 " My word ! Now, that is what I call a compliment 
 worth having. But I hear the gentleman himself coming. 
 Shall I repeat it to him ? " 
 
 " No, please don't, Colonel Monk. I did not mean it 
 for compliment, only for an answer." 
 
 " Your wish is a command ; but may I make an excep- 
 tion in favour of Miss Person, who prospectively owns 
 the nice face in question ? She would be delighted to 
 know it so highly rated ; " and he glanced at her sharply, 
 the look of a man of the world who is trying to read a 
 woman's heart. 
 
 " By all means," answered Stella, in an indifferent 
 voice, but recognising in the Colonel one who, as friend 
 or foe, must be taken into account. Then Morris came 
 in, and they went to dinner. 
 
 Here also Colonel Monk was very pleasant. He 
 made Stella tell the story of the shipwreck and of her 
 rescue, and generally tried to draw her out in every 
 possible way. But all the while he was watching and 
 taking note of many things. Before they had been to- 
 gether for five minutes he observed that this couple, his 
 son and their visitor, were on terms of extreme intimacy 
 intimacy so extreme and genuine that in two instances, 
 at least, each anticipated what the other was going to 
 say, without waiting for any words to be spoken. Thus 
 Stella deliberately answered a question that Morris had 
 not put, and he accepted the answer and continued the 
 argument quite as a matter of course. Also, they 
 seemed mysteriously to understand each other's wants, 
 and, worst of all, he noted that when speaking they
 
 THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL 207 
 
 never addressed each other by name. Evidently just 
 then each of them had but one " you " in the world. 
 
 Now, the Colonel had not passed through very varied 
 experiences and studied many sides and conditions of 
 life for nothing; indeed, he would himself explain that 
 he was able to see as far into a brick wall as other folk. 
 
 The upshot of all this was that first he thought Morris 
 a very lucky fellow to be an object of undoubted admi- 
 ration to those beautiful eyes. (It may be explained that 
 the Colonel throughout life had been an advocate of 
 taking such goods as the gods provided ; something of 
 a worshipper, too, at the shrine of lovely Thais.) His 
 second reflection was that under all the circumstances it 
 seemed quite time that he returned home to look after 
 him. 
 
 " Now, Miss Fregelius," he said, as she rose to leave the 
 table, " when Morris and I have had a glass of wine, and 
 ten minutes to chat over matters connected with his 
 poor uncle's death, I am going to ask you to do me a 
 favour before I go up to smoke a cigar with your father. 
 It is that you will play me a tune on the violin and sing 
 me a song." 
 
 "Did Mr. Monk tell you that I played and sang?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "No, he did not. Indeed, Mr. Monk has told me 
 nothing whatsoever about you. His, as you may have 
 observed, is not a very communicative nature. The in- 
 formation came from a much less interesting, though, 
 for aught I know, from a more impartial source the 
 fat page-boy, Thomas, who is first tenor in the Wes- 
 leyan chapel, and therefore imagines that he under- 
 stands music."
 
 208 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " But how could Thomas " began Morris, when 
 
 his father cut him short and answered : 
 
 " Oh, I'll tell you, quite simply. I had it from the in- 
 teresting youth's own lips as he unpacked my clothes. It 
 seems that the day before the news of your uncle's death 
 reached this place, Thomas was aroused from his 
 slumbers by hearing what he was pleased to call 
 ' hangels a-'arping and singing.' As soon as he con- 
 vinced himself that he still lingered on the earth, drawn 
 by the sweetness of the sounds, 'just in his jacket and 
 breeches,' he followed them, until he was sure that they 
 proceeded from your workshop, the chapel. 
 
 " Now, as you know, on the upstair passage there 
 still is that queer slit through which the old abbots used 
 to watch the monks at their devotions. Finding the 
 shutter unlocked, the astute Thomas followed their ex- 
 ample, as well as he could, for he says there was no light 
 in the chapel except that of the fire, by which presently 
 he made out your figure, Miss Fregelius, sometimes 
 playing the violin, and sometimes singing, and that of 
 Morris again I must quote ' a-sitting in a chair by 
 the fire with his 'ands at the back of 'is 'ead, a-staring at 
 the floor and rocking 'imself about as though he felt 
 right down bad.' No, don't interrupt me, Morris ; I 
 must tell my story. It's very amusing. 
 
 " Well, Miss Fregelius, he says and, mind you, this 
 is a great compliment that you sang and played till he 
 felt as though he would cry when at last you sank down 
 quite exhausted in a chair. Then, suddenly realising 
 that he was very cold, and hearing the stable clock strike 
 two, he went back to bed, and that's the end of the tale. 
 Now you will understand why I have asked you this
 
 THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL 2OQ 
 
 favour. I don't see why Morris and Thomas should 
 keep it all to themselves." 
 
 "I shall be delighted," answered Stella, who, although 
 her cheeks were burning, and she knew that the merci- 
 less Colonel was taking note of the fact, on the whole 
 had gone through the ordeal remarkably well. Then 
 she left the room. 
 
 As soon as the door closed Morris turned upon his 
 father angrily. 
 
 " Oh ! my dear boy," the Colonel said, " please do 
 not begin to explain. I know it's all perfectly right, 
 and there is nothing to explain. Why shouldn't you 
 get an uncommonly pretty girl with a good voice to sing 
 to you while you are still in a position to listen ? But 
 if you care to take my advice, next time you will see 
 that the shutter of that hagioscope, or whatever they 
 call it, is locked, as such elevated delights 'a deux' are 
 apt to be misinterpreted by the vulgar. And now, 
 there's enough of this chaff and nonsense. I want to 
 speak to you about the executorship and matters con- 
 nected with the property generally." 
 
 Half an hour later, when the Colonel appeared in the 
 drawing-room, the violin was fetched, and Stella played 
 it and sang afterwards to a piano-forte accompaniment. 
 The performance was not of the same standard, by any 
 means, as that which had delighted Thomas, for Stella 
 did not feel the surroundings quite propitious. Still, with 
 her voice and touch she could not fail, and the result was 
 that before she had done the Colonel grew truly 
 enthusiastic. 
 
 "I know a little of music," he said, " and I have heard 
 most of the best singers and violinists during the last
 
 210 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 forty years ; but in the face of all those memories I hope 
 you will allow me to congratulate you, Miss Fregelius. 
 There are some notes in your voice which really reduce 
 me to the condition of peeping Thomas, and, hardened 
 old fellow that I am, almost make me feel inclined to 
 cry."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 THREE INTERVIEWS 
 
 THE next day was Sunday, and the Colonel went to 
 church, wearing a hat-band four inches deep. Morris, 
 however, declined to accompany him, saying that he had 
 a letter to write to Mary ; whereon his father, who at first 
 was inclined to be vexed, replied that he could not be 
 better employed, and that he was to give her his love. 
 Then he asked if Miss Fregelius was coming, but some- 
 what to his disappointment, was informed that she 
 wished to stay with her father. 
 
 " I wonder," thought the Colonel to himself as he 
 strolled to the church, now and again acknowledging 
 greetings or stopping to chat with one of the villagers 
 "I wonder if they are going to have a little sacred 
 music together in the chapel. If so, upon my soul, I 
 should like to make the congregation. And that pious 
 fellow Morris, too the blameless Morris to go phi- 
 landering about in this fashion. I hope it won't come 
 to Mary's ears ; but if it does, luckily, with all her tem- 
 per, she is a sensible woman, and knows that even Jove 
 nods at times." 
 
 After the service the Colonel spoke to various friends, 
 accepted their condolences upon the death of Mr. 
 Person, and finally walked down the road with Eliza 
 Layard.
 
 212 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 "You must have found that all sorts of strange things 
 have happened at the Abbey since you have been away, 
 Colonel Monk," she said presently in a sprightly voice. 
 
 "Well, yes; at least I don't know. I understand that 
 Morris has improved that blessed apparatus of his, and 
 the new parson and his daughter have floated to our 
 doors like driftwood. By the way, have you seen Miss 
 Fregelius ? " 
 
 "Seen her? Yes, I have seen her." 
 
 "She is a wonderfully captivating girl, isn't she ? So 
 unusual, with those great eyes of hers that seem to vary 
 with the light " 
 
 " Like a cat's," snapped Eliza. 
 
 " The light within I was going to say." 
 
 " Oh ! I thought you meant the light without. Well, 
 she may be fascinating to men, but as I am only a 
 woman, I cannot be expected to appreciate that. You 
 see we look more to other things." 
 
 " Ah. Well, so far as I am a judge she seemed to 
 me to be pretty well set up in them also. She has a 
 marvellous voice, is certainly a first-class violinist, and I 
 should say extremely well-read, especially in Norse 
 literature." 
 
 "Oh ! I daresay she is a genius as well as a beauty." 
 
 "I gather," said the Colonel with a smile, "that you 
 do not like Miss Fregelius. As my acquaintance with 
 her is limited, would you think me rude if I asked why ? " 
 
 " How can I be expected to like her, seeing " and 
 
 she paused. 
 
 " Seeing what, Miss Layard ? " 
 
 "What, haven't you heard? I thought it was 
 common property."
 
 THREE INTERVIEWS 213 
 
 He shook his head. " I have heard nothing. Go on, 
 pray, this is quite interesting." 
 
 " That she led on that silly brother of mine until he 
 proposed to her yes, proposed to her! and then 
 refused him. Stephen has been like a crazy creature 
 ever since, moaning, and groaning, and moping till I 
 think that he will go off his head, instead of returning 
 thanks to Providence for a merciful escape." 
 
 The Colonel set his lips as though to whistle, then 
 checked himself. 
 
 " Under the circumstances, presuming them to be 
 accurately stated, I am not prepared to say who is 
 to be congratulated or who should thank Providence. 
 These things are so individual, are they not? But one 
 thing is clear, whatever else she is or is not, Miss 
 Fregelius cannot be a fortune-hunter, although she 
 must want money." 
 
 " She may want other things more." 
 
 " Perhaps. But I am very stupid, I am afraid I do 
 not understand." 
 
 " Men, for instance," suggested Eliza. 
 
 " Dear me ! that sounds almost carnivorous. I am 
 afraid that there are not many about here to satisfy her 
 appetite. Your brother, Morris, the curate at Morton, 
 and myself, if at my age I may creep into that 
 honourable company, are the only single creatures 
 within four miles, and from these Stephen and Morris 
 must apparently be eliminated." 
 
 " Why should Morris be eliminated ? " 
 
 " A reason may occur to you." 
 
 " Do you mean because he is engaged ? What on 
 earth does that matter ? "
 
 214 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " Nothing in the East but, rightly or wrongly, we 
 have decided upon a monogamous system ; a man can't 
 marry two wives, Miss Layard." 
 
 " But he can throw over one girl to marry another." 
 
 " Do you suggest that Morris is contemplating that 
 experiment? " 
 
 " I ? I suggest nothing; all I know is " 
 
 " Well, now, what do. you know ? " 
 
 " If you wish me to tell you, as perhaps I ought, I 
 know this, Colonel Monk, that the other night, when I 
 was driving along the Rectory road, I saw your son, 
 Mr. Monk, kissing this wonderful Miss Fregelius ; that 
 is all, and Stephen saw it also, you ask him." 
 
 " Thank you ; I think I would rather not. But what 
 an odd place for him to choose for this interchange of 
 early Christian courtesies ! Also if you are not mis- 
 taken how well it illustrates that line in the hymn 
 this morning : 
 
 " * How many a spot defiles the robe that wraps an earthly saint.' 
 
 Such adventures seem scarcely in Morris's line, and I 
 should have thought that even an inexperienced saint 
 would have been more discreet." 
 
 " Men always jest at serious things," said Eliza 
 severely. 
 
 " Which do you mean the saints or the kissing ? 
 Both are serious enough, but the two in combination " 
 
 "Don't you believe me ? " asked Eliza. 
 
 " Of course. But could you give me a few details ? " 
 
 Eliza could and did with amplifications. 
 
 " Now, what do you say, Colonel Monk ? " she asked 
 triumphantly.
 
 THREE INTERVIEWS 
 
 " I say that I think you have made an awkward mis- 
 take, Miss Layard. It seems to me that all you saw is 
 quite consistent with the theory that he was buttoning or 
 arranging the young lady's hood. I understand that 
 the wind was very high that night." 
 
 Eliza started ; this was a new and unpleasant inter- 
 pretation which she hastened to repudiate. " Arranging 
 her hood, indeed " 
 
 " When he might have been kissing her ? You can- 
 not understand such moderation. Still, it is possible, and 
 he ought to have the benefit of the doubt. Witnesses 
 to character would be valuable in such a case, and his 
 not to mention the lady's is curiously immaculate." 
 
 " Of course you are entitled to your own opinion, but 
 I have mine." 
 
 Suddenly the Colonel changed his bantering, satirical 
 tone, and became stern and withering. 
 
 " Miss Layard, " he said, " does it occur to you that 
 on evidence which would not suffice to convict a bicy- 
 clist of riding on a footpath, you are circulating a scan- 
 dal of which the issue might be very grave to both 
 the parties concerned ? " 
 
 " I am not circulating anything. I was telling you 
 privately; " replied Eliza, still trying to be bold. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it. I understand that neither you 
 nor your brother have spoken of this extraordinary tale, 
 and I am quite certain that you will not speak of it in 
 the future." 
 
 " I cannot answer for my brother, " she said sulkily. 
 
 " No, but in his own interest and in yours I trust that 
 you will make him understand that if I hear a word of 
 this I shall hold him to account. Also, that his propa-
 
 2l6 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 gation of such a slander will react upon you, who were 
 with him. " 
 
 " How ? " asked Eliza, now thoroughly frightened, 
 for when he chose the Colonel could be very crushing. 
 
 " Thus : Your brother's evidence is that of an inter- 
 ested person which no one will accept ; and of yours, Miss 
 Layard, it might be inferred that it was actuated by 
 jealousy of a charming and quite innocent girl ; or, per- 
 haps, by other motives even worse, which I would rather 
 you did not ask me to suggest. " 
 
 Eliza did not ask him. She was too wise. As she 
 knew well, when roused the Colonel was a man with a 
 bitter tongue and a good memory. 
 
 " I am sure I am the last person who would wish to 
 do mischief, " she said in a humble voice. 
 
 " Of course, I know that, I know that. Well, now 
 we understand each other, so I must be turning home. 
 Thank you so much for having been quite candid with 
 me. Good morning, Miss Layard ; remember me to 
 Stephen." 
 
 "Phew!" reflected the Colonel to himself, "that 
 battle is won after a fashion but just about forty- 
 eight hours too late. By this time that vixen of a 
 woman has put the story all over the place. Oh, Mor- 
 ris, you egregious ass, if you wanted to take to kissing 
 like a schoolboy, why the deuce did you select the high 
 road for the purpose ? This must be put a stop to. 
 I must take steps, and at once. They mustn't be seen 
 together again, or there will be trouble with Mary. But 
 how to do it ? how to do it ? That is the question, and one 
 to which I must find an answer within the next two hours. 
 What a kettle of fish ! What a pretty kettle of fish ! "
 
 THREE INTERVIEWS 21 7 
 
 In due course, and after diligent search, he found the 
 answer to this question. 
 
 At lunch time the Colonel remarked casually that he 
 had walked a little way with Miss Layard, who men- 
 tioned that she had seen them i.e., his son and Miss 
 Fregelius struggling through the gale the other night. 
 Then he watched the effect of this shot. Morris moved 
 his chair and looked uncomfortable ; clearly he was a 
 most transparent sinner. But on Stella it took no effect. 
 
 " As usual," reflected the Colonel, " the lady has the 
 most control. Or perhaps he tried to kiss her and she 
 wouldn't let him, and a consciousness of virtue gives 
 her strength." 
 
 After luncheon the Colonel paid a visit to Mr. Fre- 
 gelius, ostensibly to talk to him about the proposed res- 
 toration of the chancel, for which he, as holder of the 
 great tithes, was jointly liable with the rector, a respon- 
 sibility that, in the altered circumstances of the family, 
 he now felt himself able to face. When this subject 
 was exhausted, which did not take long, as Mr. Frege- 
 lius refused to express any positive opinion until he had 
 inspected the church, the Colonel's manner suddenly 
 grew portentously solemn. 
 
 " My dear sir," he said, " there is another matter, a 
 somewhat grave one, upon which, for both our sakes and 
 the sakes of those immediately concerned, I feel bound 
 to say a few words." 
 
 Mr. Fregelius, who was a timid man, looked very 
 much alarmed. A conviction that "the grave matter" 
 had something to do with Stella flashed into his mind, 
 but all he said was :
 
 218 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " I am afraid I don't understand, Colonel Monk." 
 
 " No ; indeed, how should you ? Well, to come to the 
 point, it has to do with that very charming daughter of 
 yours and my son Morris." 
 
 " I feared as much," groaned the clergyman. 
 
 " Indeed ! I thought you said you did not understand." 
 
 " No, but I guessed ; wherever Stella goes things 
 seem to happen." 
 
 " Exactly ; well, things have happened here. To be 
 brief, I mean that a lot of silly women have got up a 
 scandal about them no, scandal is too strong a word 
 gossip." 
 
 " What is alleged ? " asked Mr. Fregelius faintly. 
 
 " Well, that your daughter threw over that young ass, 
 Stephen Layard, because the story seems to me incred- 
 ible, I admit she had fallen violently in love with 
 Morris. Further that she and the said Morris were 
 seen embracing at night on the Rectory road, which I 
 don't believe, as the witnesses are Layard, who is preju- 
 diced, and his sister, who is the most ill-bred, bitter, and 
 disappointed woman in the county. Lastly, and this is 
 no doubt true, that they are generally on terms of 
 great intimacy, and we all know where that leads to 
 between a man and woman ' Plato, thy confounded 
 fantasies,' etc. You see, when people sit up singing to 
 each other alone till two in the morning I don't mean 
 that Morris sings, he has no more voice than a crow ; he 
 does the appreciative audience well, other people will 
 talk, won't they ? " 
 
 " I suppose so, the world being what it is," sighed 
 Mr. Fregelius. 
 
 " Exactly ; the world being what it is, and men and
 
 THREE INTERVIEWS 21$ 
 
 women what they are, a most unregenerate lot and ' au 
 fond' very primitive, as I daresay you may have ob- 
 served." 
 
 " What is to be done ? " 
 
 " Well, under other circumstances, I should have said, 
 Nothing at all except congratulate them most heartily, 
 more especially my son. But in this case there are 
 reasons which make such a course impossible. As you 
 know, Morris is engaged to be married to my niece, 
 Miss Porson, and it is a contract which, even if he wished 
 it, honour would forbid him to break, for family as well 
 as for personal reasons." 
 
 " Quite so, quite so ; it is not to be thought of. But 
 again I ask What is to be done ? " 
 
 " Is that not rather a question for you to consider ? I 
 suggest that you had better speak to your daughter; 
 just a hint, you know, just a hint." 
 
 "Upon my word, I'd rather not. Stella can be so 
 decided at times, and we never seem quite to under- 
 stand each other. I did speak to her the other day when 
 Mr. Layard wished to marry her, a match I was naturally 
 anxious for, but the results were not satisfactory." 
 
 "Still, I think you might try." 
 
 "Very well, I will try; and, Colonel Monk, I cannot 
 tell you how grieved I am to have brought all this trouble 
 on you." 
 
 " Not a bit," answered the Colonel cheerfully. " I 
 am an old student of human nature, and I rather enjoy 
 it ; it's like watching the puppets on a stage. Only we 
 mustn't let the comedy grow into a tragedy." 
 
 " Ah ! that's what I am afraid of, some tragedy. 
 Stella is a woman who takes things hard, and if any 
 affection really has sprung up "
 
 220 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " It will no doubt evaporate with the usual hys- 
 terics and morning headache. Bless me ! I have known 
 dozens of them, and felt some myself in my time 
 the headaches, I mean, not the other things. Don't be 
 alarmed if she gets angry, Mr. Fregelius, but just appeal 
 to her reason ; she will see the force of it afterwards." 
 
 An hour or so later the Colonel started for a walk on 
 the beach to look at some damage which a high tide had 
 done to the cliff. As he was nearing the Abbey steps 
 on his return he saw the figure of a woman standing 
 quite still upon the sands. An inspection through his 
 eyeglass revealed that it was Stella, and instinct told him 
 her errand. 
 
 " This is rather awkward," he thought, as he braced 
 himself to battle, "especially as I like that girl and 
 don't want to hurt her feelings. Hullo ! Miss Fregelius, 
 are you taking the air ? You should walk, or you will 
 catch cold." 
 
 " No, Colonel Monk, I was waiting for you." 
 
 " Waiting for me ? Me ! This is indeed an honour, 
 and one which age appreciates." 
 
 She waved aside his two-edged badinage. " You have 
 been speaking to my father," she said. 
 
 Instantly the Colonel assumed a serious manner, not 
 the most serious, such as he wore at funerals, but still 
 one suited to a grave occasion. 
 
 " Yes, I have." 
 
 " You remember all that you said ? " 
 
 " Certainly, Miss Fregelius ; and I assume that for the 
 purposes of this conversation it need not be repeated." 
 
 She bowed her head, and replied, " I have come to 
 explain and to tell you three things. First, that all
 
 THREE INTERVIEWS 221 
 
 these stories are false except that about the singing. 
 Secondly, that whoever is responsible for them has made 
 it impossible that I should live in Monksland, so I am 
 going to London to earn my own living there. And, 
 thirdly, that I hope you will excuse my absence from 
 dinner as I think the more I keep to myself until we go 
 to-morrow, the better; though I reserve to myself the 
 right to speak to Mr. Monk on this subject and to say 
 good-bye to him." 
 
 " She is taking it hard and she is fond of him deuced 
 fond of him, poor girl," thought the Colonel; but aloud 
 he said, " My dear Miss Fregelius, I never believed the 
 stories. As for the principal one, common sense rebels 
 against it. All I said to your father was that there 
 appears to be a lot of talk about the place, and, under 
 the circumstances of my son's engagement, that he 
 might perhaps give you a friendly hint." 
 
 " Oh ! indeed ; he did not put it quite like that. He 
 gave me to understand that you had told him that I 
 was so so much in love with Mr. Monk that on this 
 account I had rejected Mr. Layard." 
 
 " Please keep walking," said the Colonel, "or you really 
 will catch cold." Then suddenly he stopped, looked her 
 sharply in the face, much as he had done to Eliza, and 
 said, " Well, and are you not in love with him ? " 
 
 For a moment Stella stared at him indignantly. Then 
 suddenly he saw a blush spread upon her face to be 
 followed by an intense pallor, while the pupils of the 
 lovely eyes enlarged themselves and grew soft. Next 
 instant she put her hand to her heart, tottered on her 
 feet, and had he not caught her would perhaps have 
 fallen.
 
 222 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " I do not think I need trouble you to answer my 
 question, which, indeed, now that I think of it, was one 
 I had no right to put," he said as she recovered herself. 
 
 " Oh, my God ! " moaned Stella, wringing her hands ; 
 " I never knew it till this moment. You have brought 
 it home to me ; you, yes, you ! " and she burst out 
 weeping. 
 
 "Here are the hysterics," thought the Colonel, "and 
 I am afraid that the headache will be bad to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 To her, however, he said very tenderly, " My dear 
 girl, my dear girl, pray do not distress yourself. These 
 little accidents will happen in the best regulated hearts, 
 and believe me, you will get over it in a month or two." 
 
 " Accident ! " she said. " It is no accident ; it is Fate ! 
 I see it all now and I shall never get over it. How- 
 ever, that is my own affair, and I have no right to 
 trouble you with my misfortunes." 
 
 " Oh ! but you will indeed, and though you may think 
 the advice hard, I will tell you the best way." 
 
 She looked up in inquiry. 
 
 " Change your mind and marry Stephen Layard. He 
 is not at all a bad fellow, and there are obvious 
 advantages." 
 
 This was the Colonel's first really false move, as he 
 himself felt before the last word had left his lips. 
 
 " Colonel Monk," she said, "because I am unfortunate 
 is it any reason that you should insult me ? " 
 
 " Miss Fregelius, to my knowledge I have never in- 
 sulted any woman ; and certainly I should not wish to 
 begin with one who has just honoured me with her con- 
 fidence."
 
 THREE INTERVIEWS 22$ 
 
 " Is it not an insult," she answered with a sort of 
 sob, " when a woman to her shame and sorrow has con- 
 fessed what I have to bid her console herself by 
 marriage with another man ? " 
 
 " Now that you put it thus, I confess that perhaps 
 some minds might so interpret an intention which did 
 not exist. It seemed to me that, after a while, in mar- 
 riage you would most easily forget a trouble which my 
 son so unworthily has brought on you." 
 
 " Don't blame him for he does not deserve it. If any- 
 body is to blame it is I ; but in truth all those stories 
 are false ; we have neither of us done anything." 
 
 " Do not press the point, Miss Fregelius ; I believe 
 you." 
 
 " We have neither of us done anything," she repeated ; 
 " and, what is more, if you had not interfered, I do not 
 think that I should have found out the truth ; or, at least, 
 not yet till I saw him married, perhaps, when it would 
 have been no matter." 
 
 "When you see a man walking in his sleep you do 
 your best to stop him," said the Colonel. 
 
 " And so cause him to fall over the precipice and be 
 dashed to bits. Oh ! you should have let me finish my 
 journey. Then I should have come back to the bed 
 that I have made to lie on, and waked to find myself 
 alone, and nobody would have been hurt except myself 
 who caused the evil." 
 
 The Colonel could not continue this branch of the 
 conversation. Even to him, a hardened vessel, as he had 
 defined himself, it was too painful. 
 
 " You said you mean to earn a living in London. How ? " 
 
 " By my voice and violin, if one can sing and play
 
 224 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 with a sore heart. I have an old aunt, a sister of my 
 father's, who is a music mistress, with whom I daresay 
 I can arrange to live, and who may be able to get me 
 some introductions." 
 
 " I hope that I can help you there, and I will to the 
 best of my ability ; indeed, if necessary, I will go to 
 town and see about things. Allow me to add this, Miss 
 Fregelius, that I think you are doing a very brave 
 thing, and, what is more, a very wise one; and I believe 
 that before long we shall hear of you as the great 
 new contralto." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. " It may be ; I don't 
 care. Good-bye. By the way, I wish to see Mr. Monk 
 once more before I go ; it would be better for us all. 
 I suppose that you don't object to that, do you ? " 
 
 " Miss Fregelius, my son is a man advancing towards 
 middle age. It is entirely a point for you and him to 
 decide, and I will only say that I have every confidence 
 in you." 
 
 "Thank you," she answered, and turning, walked 
 rapidly down the lonely beach till her figure melted 
 into the gathering gloom of the winter's night. Once, 
 however, when she thought that she was out of eye- 
 shot, he saw her stop with her face towards the vast 
 and bitter sea, and saw also that she was wringing her 
 hands in an agony of the uttermost despair. 
 
 " She looks like a ghost," said the Colonel aloud with 
 a little shiver, "like a helpless, hopeless, homeless ghost, 
 with the world behind her and the infinite in front, and 
 nothing to stand on but a patch of shifting sand, wet 
 with her own tears." 
 
 When the Colonel grew thus figurative and poetical
 
 THREE INTERVIEWS 22$ 
 
 it may be surmised by anyone who has taken the trouble 
 to study his mixed and somewhat worldly character 
 that he was deeply moved. And he was moved ; more 
 so, indeed, than he had been since the death of his wife. 
 Why ? He would have found it hard to explain. On the 
 face of it, the story was of a trivial order, and in some 
 of its aspects rather absurd. Two young people who 
 happened to be congenial, but one of whom was engaged, 
 chance to be thrown together for a couple of months in 
 a country house. Although there is some gossip, noth- 
 ing at all occurs between them beyond a little perfectly 
 natural flirtation. The young man's father, hearing the 
 gossip, speaks to the young lady in order that she may 
 take steps to protect herself and his son against surmise 
 and misinterpretation. Thereupon a sudden flood of light 
 breaks upon her soul, by which she sees that she is really 
 attached to the young man, and being a woman of un- 
 usual character, or perhaps absurdly averse to lying even 
 upon such a subject, in answer to a question admits that 
 this is so, and that she very properly intends to go away. 
 
 Could anything be more commonplace, more in the 
 natural order of events ? Why, then, was he moved ? Oh ! 
 it was that woman's face and eyes. Old as he might be, 
 he felt jealous of his son ; jealous to think that for him 
 such a woman could wear this countenance of wonderful 
 and thrilling woe. What was there in Morris that it 
 should have called forth this depth of passion undented ? 
 Now, if there were no Mary but there was a Mary, 
 it was folly to pursue such a line of thought. 
 
 From sympathy for Stella, which was deep and 
 genuine, to anger with his son proved to the Colonel an 
 easy step. Morris was that worst of sinners, a hypo-
 
 226 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 crite. Morris, being engaged to one woman, had taken 
 advantage of her absence deliberately to involve the 
 affections of another, and had thereby ruined her life, 
 or, at any rate, caused her considerable inconvenience. 
 He was wroth with Morris, and what was more, before 
 he grew an hour older he would let him have a bit of 
 his mind. 
 
 He found the sinner in his workshop, the chapel, 
 making mathematical calculations, the very sight of 
 which added to his father's indignation. The man, he 
 reflected to himself, who under these circumstances 
 could indulge an abnormal talent for mathematics, es- 
 pecially on Sunday, must be a cold-blooded brute. He 
 entered the place slamming the door behind him ; and 
 Morris looking up noted with alarm, for he hated rows, 
 that there was war in his eye. 
 
 "Won't you take a chair, father?" he said. 
 
 " No, thank you ; I would rather say what I have to 
 say standing." 
 
 "What is the matter?" 
 
 " The matter is, sir, that I find that by your attentions 
 you have made that poor girl, Miss Fregelius, while she 
 was a guest in my house, the object of slander and 
 scandal to every ill-natured gossip in the three parishes." 
 
 Morris's quiet, thoughtful eyes flashed in an ominous 
 and unusual manner. 
 
 "If you were not my father," he said, "I should ask 
 you to change your tone in speaking to me on such a 
 subject; but as things are I suppose that I must submit 
 to it, unless you choose otherwise." 
 
 "The facts, Morris," answered his father, "justify any 
 language that I can use."
 
 THREE INTERVIEWS 227 
 
 " Did you get these facts from Stephen Layard and 
 Miss Layard? Ah! I guessed as much. Well, the 
 story is a lie ; I was merely arranging her hood which 
 she could not do herself, as the wind forced her to use 
 her hand to hold her dress down." 
 
 The thought of his own ingenuity in hitting on the 
 right solution of the story mollified the Colonel not a 
 little. 
 
 "Pshaw," he said, "I knew that. Do you suppose 
 that I believed you fool enough to kiss a girl on the 
 open road when you had every opportunity of kissing 
 her at home? I know, too, that you have never kissed 
 her at all ; or, ostensibly, at any rate, done anything 
 that you shouldn't do." 
 
 " What is my offence, then ? " asked Morris. 
 
 " Your offence is that you have got her talked about ; 
 that you have made her in love with you don't deny 
 it ; I have it from her own lips. That you have driven 
 her out of this place to earn a living in London as best 
 she may, and that, being yourself an engaged man " 
 here once more the Colonel drew a bow at a venture 
 "you are what is called in love with her yourself." 
 
 These two were easy victims to the skill of so expe- 
 rienced an archer. The shaft went home between the 
 joints of his son's harness, and Morris sank back in his 
 chair and turned white. Generosity, or perhaps the fear 
 of exciting more unpleasant consequences, prevented the 
 Colonel from following up this head of his advantage. 
 
 " There is more, a great deal more, behind," he went 
 on. " For instance, all this will probably come to Mary's 
 ears." 
 
 "Certainly it will; I shall tell her of it myself."
 
 228 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " Which will be tantamount to breaking your engage- 
 ment. May I ask if that is your intention ? " 
 
 " No ; but supposing that all you say were true, and 
 that it was my intention, what then ? " 
 
 " Then, sir, to my old-fashioned ideas you would be 
 a dishonourable fellow, to cast away the woman who 
 has only you to look to in the world, that you may 
 put another woman who has taken your fancy in her 
 place." 
 
 Morris bit his lip. 
 
 " Still speaking on that supposition," he replied, 
 " would it not be more dishonourable to marry her ; 
 would it not be kinder, shameful as it may be, to tell 
 her all the truth and let her seek some worthier man ? " 
 
 The Colonel shrugged his shoulders. " I can't split 
 hairs," he said, "or enter on an argument of sentimental 
 casuistry. But I tell you this, Morris, although you are 
 my only son, and the last of our name, that rather than 
 do such a thing, under all the circumstances, it would 
 be better that you should take a pistol and blow your 
 brains out." 
 
 "Very probably," answered Morris, "but would you 
 mind telling me also what are the exact circumstances 
 which would in your opinion so aggravate this par- 
 ticular case ? " 
 
 " You have a copy of your uncle Person's will in that 
 drawer ; give it me." 
 
 Morris obeyed, and his father searched for, and read 
 the following sentence : " In consideration of the forth- 
 coming marriage between his son Morris and my daugh- 
 ter Mary, the said testator remits all debts and obligations 
 that may be due to his estate by the said Richard Monk,
 
 THREE INTERVIEWS 229 
 
 Lieutenant Colonel, Companion of the Bath, and an 
 executor of this will." 
 
 "Well," said Morris. 
 
 "Well," replied the Colonel coolly, "those debts in 
 all amounted to ^19,543. No wonder you seem aston- 
 ished, but they have been accumulating for a score of 
 years. There's the fact, any way, so discussion is no 
 use. Now do you understand ? ' In consideration of 
 the forthcoming marriage," remember." 
 
 " I shall be rich some day ; that machine you laugh 
 at will make me rich ; already I have been approached. 
 I might repay this money." 
 
 " Yes, and you might not ; such hopes and expecta- 
 tions have a way of coming to nothing. Besides, hang 
 it all, Morris, you know that there is more than money 
 in the question." 
 
 Morris hid his face in his hands for a moment ; when 
 he removed them it was ashen. " Yes," he said, " things 
 are unfortunate. You remember that you were very 
 anxious that I should engage myself, and Mary was so 
 good as to accept me. Perhaps, I cannot say, I should 
 have done better to have waited till I felt some real im- 
 pulse towards marriage. However, that is all gone by, 
 and, father, you need not be in the least afraid ; there is 
 not the slightest fear that I shall attempt to do anything 
 of which you would disapprove." 
 
 " I was sure you wouldn't, old fellow," answered the 
 Colonel in a friendly tone, " not when you came to think. 
 Matters seem to have got into a bit of a tangle, don't 
 they ? Most unfortunate that charming young lady be- 
 ing brought to this house in such a fashion. Really, it 
 looks like a spite of what she called Fate. However, I
 
 230 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 have no doubt that it will all straighten itself somehow. 
 By the way, she told me that she should wish to see you 
 once to say good-bye before she went. Don't be vexed 
 with me if, should she do so, I suggest to you to be very 
 careful. Your position will be exceedingly painful and 
 exceedingly dangerous, and in a moment all your fine 
 resolutions may come to nothing ; though I am sure that 
 she does not wish any such thing, poor dear. Unless 
 she really seeks this interview, I think, indeed, it would 
 be best avoided." 
 
 Morris made no answer, and the Colonel went away 
 somewhat weary and sorrowful. For once he had seen 
 too much of his puppet-show.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A MARRIAGE AND AFTER 
 
 STELLA did not appear at dinner that night, or at break- 
 fast next day. In the course of the morning, growing 
 impatient, for he had explanations to make, Morris sent 
 her a note worded thus : 
 
 " Can I see you ? M. M." 
 to which came the following answer : 
 
 " Not to-day. Meet me to-morrow at the Dead Church 
 at three o'clock. STELLA." 
 
 It was the only letter that he ever received from her. 
 
 That afternoon, December 23, Mr. Fregelius and his 
 daughter moved to the Rectory in a fly that had been 
 especially prepared to convey the invalid without shak- 
 ing him. Morris did not witness their departure, as 
 the Colonel, either by accident or design, had arranged 
 to go with him on this day to inspect the new build- 
 ings which had been erected on the Abbey Farm. 
 Nor, indeed, were the names of the departed guests so 
 much as mentioned at dinner that night. The incident 
 of their long stay at the Abbey, with all its curious 
 complications, was closed, and both father and son, by 
 tacit agreement, determined to avoid all reference to it; 
 at any rate for the present. 
 
 231
 
 232 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 The Christmas Eve of that year will long be remem- 
 bered in Monksland and all that stretch of coast as the 
 day of the " great gale " which wrought so much damage 
 on its shores. The winter's dawn was of extraordinary 
 beauty, for all the eastern sky might have been compared 
 to one vast flower, with a heart of burnished gold, and 
 sepals and petals of many coloured fires. Slowly from a 
 central point it opened, slowly its splendours spread across 
 the heavens ; then suddenly it seemed to wither and die, 
 till where it had been was nothing but masses of grey 
 vapour that arose, gathered, and coalesced into an ashen 
 pall hanging low above the surface of the ashen sea. 
 The coastguard, watching the glass, hoisted their warn- 
 ing cone, although as yet there was no breath of wind, 
 and old sailormen hanging about in knots on the cliff and 
 beach went to haul up their boats as high as they could 
 drag them, knowing that it would blow hard by night. 
 
 About mid-day the sea began to be troubled, as though 
 its waves were being pushed on by some force as yet 
 unseen, and before two o'clock gusts of cold air from 
 the nor'east travelled landwards off the ocean with a 
 low moaning sound, which was very strange to hear. 
 
 As Morris trudged along towards the Dead Church 
 he noticed, as we do notice such things when our minds 
 are much preoccupied and oppressed, that these gusts 
 were coming quicker and quicker, although still separated 
 from each other by periods of aerial calm. Then he re- 
 membered that a great gale had been prophesied in the 
 weather reports, and thought to himself that they por- 
 tended its arrival. 
 
 He reached the church by the narrow spit of sand and 
 shingle which still connected it with the shore, passed
 
 A MARRIAGE AND AFTER 233 
 
 through the door in the rough brick wall, closing it be- 
 hind him, and paused to look. Already under that 
 heavy sky the light which struggled through the brine- 
 encrusted eastern window was dim and grey. Presently, 
 however, he discovered the figure of Stella seated in her 
 accustomed place by the desolate-looking stone altar, 
 whereon stood the box containing the aerophone that 
 they had used in their experiments. She was dressed 
 in her dark-coloured ulster, of which the hood was still 
 drawn over her head, giving her the appearance of some 
 cloaked nun, lingering, out of time and place, in the 
 ruined habitations of her worship. 
 
 As he advanced she rose and pushed back the hood, 
 revealing the masses of her waving hair, to which it had 
 served as a sole covering. In silence Stella stretched 
 out her hand, and in silence Morris took it ; for neither 
 of them seemed to find any words. At length she spoke, 
 fixing her sad eyes upon his face, and saying: 
 
 " You understand that we meet to part. I am going 
 to London to-morrow ; my father has consented." 
 
 " That is Christmas Day," he faltered. 
 
 " Yes, but there is an early train, the same that runs 
 on Sundays." 
 
 Then there was another pause. 
 
 " I wish to ask your pardon," he said, " for all the 
 trouble that I have brought upon you." 
 
 She smiled. " I think it is I who should ask yours. 
 You have heard of these stories ? " 
 
 " Yes, my father spoke to me ; he told me of his con- 
 versation with you." 
 
 " All of it ? " 
 
 " I do not know; I suppose so," and he hung his head.
 
 234 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " Oh!" she broke out in a kind of cry, "if he told 
 you all " 
 
 " You must not blame him," he interrupted. " He was 
 very angry with me. He considered that I had behaved 
 badly to you, and everybody, and I do not think that 
 he weighed his words." 
 
 " I am not angry. Now that I think of it, what does 
 it matter ? I cannot help things, and the truth will out." 
 
 " Yes," he said, quite simply ; " we love each other, so 
 we may as well admit it before we part." 
 
 "Yes," she echoed, without disturbance or surprise; 
 " I know now we love each other." 
 
 These were the first intimate words that ever passed 
 between them ; this, their declaration, unusual even in 
 the long history of the passions of men and women, 
 and not the less so because neither of them seemed to 
 think its fashion strange. 
 
 " It must always have been so," said Morris. 
 
 " Always," she answered, " from the beginning ; from 
 the time you saved my life and we were together in the 
 boat and perhaps, who can say ? before. I can see 
 it now, only until they put light into our minds we did 
 not understand. I suppose that sooner or later we 
 should have found it out, for having been brought to- 
 gether nothing could ever have really kept us asunder." 
 
 " Nothing but death," he answered heavily. 
 
 "That is your old error, the error of a lack of faith," 
 she replied, with one of her bright smiles. " Death will 
 unite us beyond the possibility of parting. I pray God 
 that it may come quickly to me, not to you. You 
 have your life to lead ; mine is finished. I do not mean 
 the life of my body, but the real life, that within."
 
 A MARRIAGE AND AFTER 235 
 
 " I think that you are right ; I grow sure of it. But 
 here there is nothing to be done." 
 
 "Of course," she answered eagerly; "nothing. Do 
 you suppose that I wished to suggest such a treachery ? " 
 
 " No, you are too pure and good." 
 
 " Good I am not who is ? but I believe that I am 
 pure." 
 
 " It is bitter," groaned Morris. 
 
 " Why so ? My heart aches, and yet through the pain 
 I rejoice, because I know that it is well with us. Had 
 you not loved me, then it would have been bitter. The 
 rest is little. What does it matter when and how and 
 where it comes about ? To-day we part for ever in the 
 flesh. You will not look upon this mortal face of mine 
 again." 
 
 " Why do you say so ? " 
 
 " Because I feel that it is true." 
 
 He glanced up hastily, and she answered the question 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "No indeed not that I never thought of such 
 a thing. I think it a crime. We are bid to endure the 
 burden of our day. I shall go on weaving my web and 
 painting my picture till, soon or late, God says, ' Hold,' 
 and then I shall die gladly, yes, very gladly, because the 
 real beginning is at hand." 
 
 " Oh ! that I had your perfect faith," groaned Morris. 
 
 " Then, if you love me, learn it from me. Should I, 
 of all people, tell you what is not true ? It is the truth 
 
 1 swear it is the truth. I am not deceived. I 
 
 know, I know, I know" 
 
 " What do you know about us ? " 
 
 " That, when it is over, we shall meet again where
 
 236 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 there is no marriage, where there is nothing gross, where 
 love perfect and immortal reigns and passion is forgot- 
 ten. There that we love each other will make no heart 
 sore, not even hers whom here, perhaps, we have 
 wronged ; there will be no jealousies, since each and 
 all, themselves happy in their own way and according 
 to their own destinies, will rejoice in the happiness of 
 others. There, too, our life will be one life, our work 
 one work, our thought one thought nothing more shall 
 separate us at all in that place where there is no change 
 or shadow of turning. Therefore," and she clasped her 
 hands and looked upwards, her face shining like a 
 saint's, although the tears ran down it, "therefore, 
 ' O Death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy 
 victory ? ' ' 
 
 " You talk like one upon the verge of it, who hears 
 the beating of Death's wings. It frightens me, Stella." 
 
 " I know nothing of that ; it may be to-night, or fifty 
 years hence we are always on the verge, and those 
 Wings I have heard from childhood. Fifty, even seventy 
 years, and after them all the Infinite ; one tiny grain of 
 sand compared to the bed of the great sea, that sea from 
 which it was washed at dawn to be blown back again at 
 nightfall." 
 
 " But the dead forget in that land all things are 
 forgotten. Were you to die I should call to you and 
 you would not answer ; and when my time came, I might 
 look for you and never find you." 
 
 "How dare you say it? If I die, search, and you 
 shall see. No ; do not search, wait. At your death I 
 will be with you." 
 
 " Whatever happens in life or death here or here-
 
 A MARRIAGE AND AFTER 237 
 
 after swear that you will not forget me, and that you 
 will love me only. Swear it, Stella." 
 
 " Come to this altar," she said, when she had thought 
 a moment, " and give me your hand so. Now, before 
 my Maker and the Presences who surround us, I marry 
 you, Morris Monk. Not in the flesh with your flesh I 
 have nothing to do but in the spirit. I take your soul 
 to mine, I give my soul to yours ; yours it was from its 
 birth's day, yours it is, and when it ceases to be yours, 
 let it perish everlastingly." 
 
 " So be it to both of us, for ever and for ever," he 
 answered. 
 
 This, then, was their marriage, and as they walked 
 hand in hand away from the ancient altar, which surely 
 had never seen so strange a rite, there returned to 
 Morris an idle fantasy which had entered his mind 
 at this very spot when they landed one morning half- 
 frozen after that night in the open boat. But he said 
 nothing of it; for with the memory came a recollec- 
 tion of certain wandering words which that same day 
 fell from Stella's lips, words at the thought of which his 
 spirit thrilled and his flesh shuddered. What if she were 
 near it, or he were near it, or both of them ? What if 
 this solemn ceremony of marriage mocked, yet made 
 divine, had taken place upon the very threshold of its 
 immortal consummation ? She read his thought and 
 answered : 
 
 " Remember always, far and near, it is the same thing; 
 time is nothing ; this oath of ours cannot be touched by 
 time or earthly change." 
 
 " I will remember," he answered.
 
 238 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 What more did they say ? He never could be 
 sure, nor does it matter, for what is written bears its 
 gist. 
 
 " Go away first," she said presently ; " I promised your 
 father that I would bring no further trouble on you, so 
 we must not be seen together. Go now, for the gale is 
 rising fast and the darkness grows." 
 
 " This is hard to bear," he muttered, setting his teeth. 
 "Are you sure that we shall not meet again in after 
 years ? " 
 
 " Sure. You look your last on me, on the earthly 
 Stella whom you know and love." 
 
 " It must be done," he said. 
 
 " It must be done," she echoed. " Good-bye, husband, 
 till that appointed hour of meeting when I may call you 
 so without shame," and she held out her hand. 
 
 He took and pressed it ; speak he could not. Then, 
 like a man stricken in years, he passed down the church 
 with bent head and shambling feet. At the door he 
 turned to look at her. She was standing erect and 
 proud as a conqueror, her hand resting upon the altar. 
 Even at that distance their eyes met, and in hers, lit 
 with a wild and sudden ray from the sinking sun, he 
 could see a strange light shine. Then he went out of 
 the door and dragged it to behind him, to battle his way 
 homeward through the roaring gale that stung and 
 buffeted him like all the gathered spites and hammer- 
 ings of Destiny. 
 
 This, then, was their parting, a parting pure and stern 
 and high, unsolaced by one soft word, unsweetened 
 by a single kiss. Yet it seems fitting that those who 
 hope to meet in the light of the spirit should make
 
 A MARRIAGE AND AFTER 239 
 
 their last farewells on earth beneath such solemn sha- 
 dows. 
 
 And Stella ? After all she was but a woman, a woman 
 with a very human heart. She knew the truth indeed, 
 to whom it was given to see before the due determined 
 time of vision, but still she was troubled with that human 
 heart, and weighed down by the flesh over which she 
 triumphed. Now that he was gone, pride and strength 
 seemed both to leave her, and with a low cry, like the cry 
 of a wounded sea-bird, she cast herself down there upon 
 the cold stones before the altar, and wept till her senses 
 left her. 
 
 A great gale roared and howled. The waters, driven 
 onwards by its furious breath, beat upon the eastern 
 cliffs till these melted like snow beneath them, taking 
 away field and church, town and protecting wall, and in 
 return casting up the wrecks of ships and the bodies of 
 dead men. 
 
 Morris could not sleep. Who could sleep in such an 
 awful tempest? Who could sleep that had passed 
 through such a parting ? Oh ! his heart ached, and he 
 was as one sick to death, and with him continually was 
 the thought of Stella, and before him came the vision of 
 her eyes. He could not sleep, so rising, he dressed 
 himself and went to the window. High in the heavens 
 swept clean of clouds by the furious blasts floated a wan- 
 ing moon, throwing her ghastly light upon the swirling, 
 furious sea. Shorewards rushed the great rollers in un- 
 ending lines, there to break in thunder and seethe across 
 the shingle till the sea-wall stopped them and sent the 
 spray flying upwards in thin, white clouds.
 
 240 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 "God help those in the power of the sea to-night," 
 thought Morris, "for many of them will not keep 
 Christmas here." 
 
 Then it seemed to his mind, excited by storm and sor- 
 row, as though some power were drawing him, as though 
 some voice were telling him that there was that which he 
 must hear. Aimlessly, half-unconsciously he wandered 
 to his workshop in the old chapel,' turned on one of 
 the lamps, and stood at the window watching the ma- 
 jestic progress of the storm, and thinking, thinking, 
 thinking. 
 
 While he remained thus, suddenly, thrilling his nerves 
 as though with a quick shock of pain, sharp and clear 
 even in that roar and turmoil, rang out the sound of an 
 electric bell. He started round and looked. Yes ; as he 
 thought in all the laboratory there was only one bell that 
 could ring, none other had its batteries charged, and 
 that bell was attached to the aerophone whereof the 
 twin stood upon the altar in the Dead Church. The in- 
 strument was one of the pair with which he had carried 
 out his experiments of the last two months. 
 
 His heart stood still. " Great God ! What could 
 have caused that bell to ring ? " It could not ring; it 
 was a physical impossibility unless somebody were han- 
 dling the sister instrument, and at four o'clock in the 
 morning, who could be there, and except one, who 
 would know its working? With a bound he was by 
 the aerophone and had given the answering signal. 
 Then instantly, as though she were standing at his side 
 in the room, for this machine does not blur the voice or 
 heighten its tone, he heard Stella speaking. 
 
 " Is it you who answer me ? " she asked.
 
 A MARRIAGE AND AFTER 241 
 
 "Yes, yes," he said, "but where are you at this hour 
 of the night ? " 
 
 " Where you left me, in the Dead Church," floated back 
 the quick reply through the raving breadths of storm. 
 " Listen : After you went my strength gave out and I 
 suppose that I fainted ; at least, a little while ago I woke 
 up from a deep sleep to find myself lying before the 
 altar here. I was frightened, for I knew that it must be 
 far into the night, and an awful gale is blowing which 
 shakes the whole church. I went to the door and 
 opened it, and by the light of the moon I saw that 
 between me and the shore lies a raging sea hundreds of 
 yards wide. Then I came back and threw out my mind 
 to you, and tried to wake you, if you slept ; tried to make 
 you understand that I wished you to go to the aerophone 
 and hear me." 
 
 " I will get help at once," broke in Morris. 
 
 " I beg you," came back the voice, " I beg you, do 
 not stir. The time is very short ; already the waves are 
 dashing against the walls of the chancel, and I hear the 
 water rumbling in the vaults beneath my feet. Listen ! " 
 Her voice ceased, and in place of it there swelled the 
 shriek of the storm which beat about the Dead Church, 
 the rush, too, of the water in the hollow vaults and the 
 crashing of old coffins as they were washed from their 
 niches. Another instant, and Stella had cut off these 
 sounds and was speaking again. 
 
 " It is useless to think of help, no boat, nothing 
 could live upon that fearful sea; moreover, within five 
 minutes this church must fall and vanish." 
 
 " My God ! My God ! " wailed Morris. 
 
 " Do not grieve ; it is a waste of precious time, and do
 
 242 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 not stir till the end. I want you to know that I did 
 not seek this death. I never dreamed of such a thing. 
 You must tell my father so, and bid him not to mourn 
 for me. It was my intention to leave the church within 
 ten minutes of yourself. This cup is given to me by 
 the hand of Fate. I did not fill it. Do you hear and 
 understand ? " 
 
 " I hear and understand," answered Morris. 
 
 "Now you see," she went on, "that our talk to-day 
 was almost inspired. My web is woven, my picture is 
 painted, and to me Heaven says, ' Hold.' The thought 
 that it might be so was in your mind, was it not? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And I answered your thought, telling you that time 
 is nothing. This I tell you again for your comfort in the 
 days that remain to you of life. Oh ! I bless God ; I 
 bless God Who has dealt so mercifully with me. Where 
 are now the long years of lonely suffering that I feared 
 
 I who stand upon the threshold of the Eternal ? . . . 
 I can talk no more, the water is rising in the church 
 already it is about my knees ; but remember every word 
 which I have said to you ; remember that we are wed 
 truly wed, that I go to wait for you, and that even if 
 you do not see me I will, if I may, be near you always 
 till you die, and afterwards will be with you always 
 
 always." 
 
 " Stay," cried Morris. 
 
 " What have you to say ? Be swift, the water rises 
 and the walls are cracking." 
 
 "That I love you now and for ever and for ever; that 
 I will remember everything ; and that I know beyond a 
 doubt that you have seen, and speak the truth."
 
 A MARRIAGE AND AFTER 243 
 
 " Thank you for those blessed words, and for this life 
 fare you well." 
 
 For a moment there was silence, or at least Stella's 
 voice was silent, while Morris stood over the aerophone, 
 the sweat running from his face, rocking like a drunken 
 man in his agony and waiting for the end. Then sud- 
 denly loud, clear, and triumphant, broke upon his ears 
 the sound of that song which he had heard her sing 
 upon the sinking ship when her death seemed near ; the 
 ancient song of the Over-Lord. Once more at the last 
 mortal ebb, while the water rose about her breast, 
 Stella's instincts and blood had asserted themselves, 
 and forgetting aught else, she was dying as her pagan 
 forefathers had died, with the secret ancient chant upon 
 her lips. Yes, she sang as Skarphedinn the hero sang 
 while the flame ate out his life. 
 
 The song swelled on, and the great waters boomed an 
 accompaniment. Then came a sound of crashing walls, 
 and for a moment it ceased, only to rise again still 
 clearer and more triumphant. Again a crash a seeth- 
 ing hiss and the instrument was silent, for its twin 
 was shattered. Shattered also was the fair shape that 
 held the spirit of Stella. 
 
 Again and again Morris spoke eagerly, entreatingly, 
 but the aerophone was dumb. So he ceased at length, 
 and even then well nigh laughed when he thought that 
 in this useless piece of mechanism he saw a symbol of 
 his own soul, which also had lost its mate and could 
 hold true converse with no other. 
 
 Then he started up, and just as he was, ran out into 
 the raving night.
 
 244 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Three hours later, when the sun rose upon Christmas 
 Day, if any had been there to note him they might have 
 seen a dishevelled man standing alone upon the lonely 
 shore. There he stood, the back-wash of the mighty 
 combers hissing about his knees as he looked seaward 
 beneath the hollow of his hand at a spot some two 
 hundred yards away, where one by one their long lines 
 were broken into a churning yeast of foam. 
 
 Morris knew well what broke them the fallen ruins 
 of the church that now was Stella's sepulchre, and, oh ! 
 in that dark hour, he would have been glad to seek her 
 where she lay.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 THE RETURN OF MARY 
 
 CURIOUSLY enough, indirectly, but in fact, it was the 
 circumstance of Stella's sudden and mysterious death 
 that made Morris a rich and famous man, and caused 
 his invention of the aerophone to come into common use. 
 Very early on the following morning, but not before, 
 she was missed from the Rectory and sought far and 
 wide. One of the first places visited by those who 
 searched was the Abbey, whither they met Morris re- 
 turning through the gale, wild-eyed, flying-haired, and 
 altogether strange to see. They asked him if he knew 
 what had become of Miss Fregelius. 
 
 "Yes," he replied, " she has been crushed or drowned 
 in the ruins of the Dead Church, which was swept away 
 by the gale last night." 
 
 Then they stared and asked how he knew this. He 
 answered that, being unable to sleep that night on 
 account of the storm, he had gone into his workshop 
 when his attention was suddenly attracted by the bell 
 of the aerophone, by means of which he learned that 
 Miss Fregelius had been cut off from the shore in the 
 church. He added that he ran as hard as he could to 
 the spot, only to find at dawn that the building had 
 entirely vanished in the gale, and that the sea had en- 
 croached upon the land by at least two hundred paces. 
 
 245
 
 246 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Of course these statements concerning the aerophone 
 and its capabilities were reported all over the world 
 and much criticised very roughly in some quarters. 
 Thereupon Morris offered to demonstrate the truth of 
 what he had said. The controversy proved sharp ; but 
 of this he was glad; it was a solace to him, perhaps 
 even it prevented him from plunging headlong into 
 madness. At first he was stunned ; he did not feel very 
 much. Then the first effects of the blow passed; a 
 sense of the swiftness and inevitableness of this awful 
 consummation seemed to sink down into his heart and 
 crush him. The completeness of the tragedy, its Greek- 
 play qualities, were overwhelming. Question and an- 
 swer, seed and fruit there was no space for thought 
 or growth between them. The curtain was down upon 
 the Temporal, and lo ! almost before its folds had shaken 
 to their place, it had risen upon the Eternal. His nature 
 reeled beneath this knowledge and his loss. Had it 
 not been for those suspicions and attacks it might have 
 fallen. 
 
 The details of the struggle need not be entered into, 
 as they have little to do with the life-story of Morris 
 Monk. It is enough to say that in the end he more 
 than carried out his promises under the severest condi- 
 tions, and in the presence of various scientific bodies 
 and other experts. 
 
 Afterwards came the natural results ; the great aero- 
 phone company was floated, in which Morris as vendor 
 received half the shares he would take no cash 
 which shares, by the way, soon stood at five and a 
 quarter. Also he found himself a noted man; was 
 asked to deliver an address before the British Asso-
 
 THE RETURN OF MARY 247 
 
 elation; was nominated on the council of a leading 
 scientific society, and in due course after a year or two 
 received one of the greatest compliments that can be 
 paid to an Englishman, that of being elected to its 
 fellowship, as a distinguished person, by the committee 
 of a famous Club. Thus did Morris prosper greatly 
 very greatly, and in many different ways; but with all 
 this part of his life we are scarcely concerned. 
 
 On the day of his daughter's death Morris visited 
 Mr. Fregelius, for whom he had a message. He found 
 the old man utterly crushed and broken. 
 
 "The last of the blood, Mr. Monk," he moaned, when 
 Morris, hoarse-voiced and slow-worded, had convinced 
 him of the details of the dreadful fact, " the last of the 
 blood ; and I left childless. At least you will feel for 
 me and with me. You will understand." 
 
 It will be seen that although outside of some loose talk 
 in the village, which indirectly had produced results so 
 terrible, no one had ever suggested such a thing, curi- 
 ously enough, by some intuitive process, Mr. Fregelius 
 who, to a certain extent, at any rate, guessed his daugh- 
 ter's mind, took it for granted that she had been in love 
 with Morris. He seemed to know also by the same 
 deductive process that he was attached to her. 
 
 " I do, indeed," said Morris, with a sad smile, thinking 
 that if only the clergyman could look into his heart he 
 would perhaps be somewhat astonished at the depth 
 of that understanding sympathy. 
 
 " I told you," went on Mr. Fregelius, " and you 
 laughed at me, that it was most unlucky her having 
 sung that hateful Norse song, the ' Greeting to Death,' 
 when you found her upon the steamer Trondhjem."
 
 248 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " Everything has been unlucky, Mr. Fregelius or 
 lucky," he added beneath his breath. " But you will 
 like to know that she died singing it. The aerophone 
 told me that." 
 
 " Mr. Monk," the old man said, catching his arm, 
 " my daughter was a strange woman, a very strange 
 woman, and since I heard this dreadful news I have 
 been afraid that perhaps she was unhappy. She was 
 leaving her home, on your account yes, on your 
 account, it's no use pretending otherwise, although no 
 one ever told me so and that she knew the church 
 was going to be washed away." 
 
 " She thought you might think so," answered Morris, 
 and he gave him Stella's last message. Moreover, he 
 told him more of the real circumstances than he re- 
 vealed to anybody else. He told him what nobody else 
 ever knew, for on that lonely coast none had seen him 
 enter or leave the place, how he had met her in the 
 church about the removal of the instruments, as he 
 left it to be inferred and at her wish had come home 
 alone because of the gossip which had arisen. He ex- 
 plained also that according to her own story, from some 
 unexplained cause she had fallen asleep in the church 
 after his departure, and awakened to find herself sur- 
 rounded by the waters with all hope gone. 
 
 "And now she is dead, now she is dead," groaned 
 Mr. Fregelius, " and I am alone in the world." 
 
 " I am sorry for you," said Morris simply, " but there it 
 is. It is no use looking backward, we must look forward. " 
 
 " Yes, look forward, both of us, since she is hidden 
 from both. You see, almost from the first I knew you 
 were fond of her," added the clergyman simply.
 
 THE RETURN OF MARY 249 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "I am fond of her, though of 
 that the less said the better, and because our case is 
 the same I hope that we shall always be friends." 
 
 " You are very kind ; I shall need a friend now. I 
 am alone now, quite alone, and my heart is broken." 
 
 Here it may be added that Morris was even better 
 than his word. Out of the wealth that came to him in 
 such plenty, for instance, he was careful to augment 
 the old man's resources without offending his feelings, 
 by adding permanently and largely to the endowment 
 of the living. Also, he attended to his wants in many 
 other ways which need not be enumerated, and not 
 least by constantly visiting him. Many were the odd 
 hours and the evenings that shall be told of later, which 
 they spent together smoking their pipes in the Rectory 
 study, and talking of her who had gone, and whose 
 lost life was the strongest link between them. Other- 
 wise and elsewhere, except upon a few extraordinary 
 occasions, her name rarely passed the lips of Morris. 
 
 Yet within himself he mourned and mourned, although 
 even in the first bitterness not as one without hope. He 
 knew that she had spoken truth ; that she was not dead, 
 but only for a while out of his sight and hearing. 
 
 Ten days had passed, and for Morris ten weary, almost 
 sleepless, nights. The tragedy of the destruction of 
 the new rector's daughter in the ruins of the Dead 
 Church no longer occupied the tongues of men and 
 paragraphs in papers. One day the sea gave up the 
 hood of her brown ulster, the same that Morris had 
 been seen arranging by Stephen and Eliza Layard; 
 it was found upon the beach. After this even the
 
 250 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 local police admitted that the conjectures as to her end 
 must be true, and, since for the lack of anything to 
 hold it on there could be no inquest, the excitement 
 dwindled and died. Nor indeed, as her father an- 
 nounced that he was quite satisfied as to the circum- 
 stances of his daughter's death, was any formal inquiry 
 held concerning them. A few people, however, still be- 
 lieved that she was not really drowned but had gone 
 away secretly for unknown private reasons. The world 
 remembers few people, even if they be distinguished, 
 for ten whole days. It has not time for such long- 
 continued recollection of the dead, this world of the 
 living who hurry on to join them. 
 
 If this is the case with the illustrious, the wealthy 
 and the powerful, how much more must it be so in the 
 instance of an almost unknown girl, a stranger in the 
 land ? Morris and her father remembered her, for she 
 was part of their lives and lived on with their lives. 
 Stephen Layard mourned for the woman whom he had 
 wished to marry fiercely at first, with the sharp pain 
 of disappointed passion ; then intermittently ; and at 
 last, after he was comfortably wedded to somebody else, 
 with a mild and sentimental regret three' or four times 
 a year. Eliza, too, when once convinced that she was 
 " really dead," was " much shocked," and talked vaguely 
 of the judgments and dispensations of Providence, as 
 though this victim were pre-eminently deserving of its 
 most stern decrees. It was rumoured, however, among 
 the observant that her Christian sorrow was, perhaps, 
 tempered by a secret relief at the absence of a rival, 
 who, as she now admitted, sang extremely well and had 
 beautiful eyes.
 
 THE RETURN OF MARY 2$l 
 
 The Colonel also thought of the guest whom the sea 
 had given and taken away, and with a real regret, for 
 this girl's force, talents, and loveliness had touched and 
 impressed him who had sufficient intellect and experi- 
 ence to know that she was a person cast in a rare and 
 noble mould. But to Morris he never mentioned her 
 name. No further confidences had passed between 
 them on the matter. Yet he knew that to his son this 
 name was holy. Therefore, being in some ways a wise 
 man, he thought it well to keep his lips shut and to let 
 the dead bury their dead. 
 
 By all the rest Stella Fregelius was soon as much for- 
 gotten as though she had never walked the world or 
 breathed its air. That gale had done much damage and 
 taken away many lives all down the coast was heard 
 the voice of mourning ; hers chanced to be one of them, 
 and there was nothing to be said. 
 
 On the morning of the eleventh day came a telegram 
 from Mary addressed to Morris, and dated from London. 
 It was brief and to the point. " Come to dinner with 
 me at Seaview, and bring your father. MARY." 
 
 When Morris drove to Seaview that evening he was 
 as a man is in a dream. Sorrow had done its work on 
 him, agonising his nerves, till at length they seemed to 
 be blunted as with a very excess of pain, much as the 
 nerves of victims of the Inquisition were sometimes 
 blunted, till at length they could scarcely feel the pincers 
 bite or the irons burn. Always abstemious, also, for this 
 last twelve days he had scarcely swallowed enough food 
 to support him, with the result that his body weakened 
 and suffered with his mind.
 
 252 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Then there was a third trouble to contend with, the 
 dull and gnawing sense of shame which seemed to eat 
 into his heart. In actual fact, he had been faithful 
 enough to Mary, but in mind he was most unfaithful. 
 How could he come to her, the woman who was to be 
 his wife, the woman who had dealt so well by him, with 
 the memory of that spiritual marriage at the altar of the 
 Dead Church still burning in his brain that marriage 
 which now was consecrated and immortalised by death ? 
 What had he to give her that was worth her taking ? he, 
 who if the truth were known, shrank from all idea of 
 union with any earthly woman ; who longed only to be 
 allowed to live out his time in a solitude as complete as 
 he could find or fashion ? It was monstrous ; it was 
 shameful ; and then and there he determined that before 
 ever he stood in Monksland church by the side of Mary 
 Person, at least he would tell her the truth, and give her 
 leave to choose. To his other sins against her deceit 
 should not be added. 
 
 " Might I suggest, Morris," said the Colonel, who as 
 they drove, had been watching his son's face furtively by 
 the light of the brougham lamp " might I suggest 
 that, under all the circumstances, Mary would perhaps 
 appreciate an air a little less reminiscent of funerals ? 
 You may recollect that several months have passed since 
 you parted." 
 
 " Yes," said Morris, " and a great deal has happened 
 in that time." 
 
 " Of course, her father is dead." The Colonel alluded 
 to no other death. " Poor Person ! How painfully that 
 beastly window in the dining-room will remind me of him ! 
 Come, here we are ; pull yourself together, old fellow."
 
 THE RETURN OF MARY 
 
 Morris obeyed as best he could, and presently found 
 himself following the Colonel into the drawing-room, for 
 once in his life, as he reflected, heartily glad to have the 
 advantage of his parent's society. He could scarcely 
 be expected to be very demonstrative and lover-like 
 under the fire of that observant eyeglass. 
 
 As they entered the drawing-room by one door, Mary, 
 looking very handsome and imposing in a low black 
 dress, which became her fair beauty admirably, appeared 
 at the other. Catching sight of Morris, she ran, or 
 rather glided, forward with the graceful gait that was 
 one of her distinctions, and caught him by both hands, 
 bending her face towards him in open and unmistak- 
 able invitation. 
 
 In a moment it was over somehow, and she was say- 
 ing: 
 
 " Morris, how thin you look, and there are great black 
 lines under your eyes ! Uncle, what have you been doing 
 to him ? " 
 
 "When I have had the pleasure of saying, How-do- 
 you-do to you, my dear," he replied in a somewhat 
 offended voice for the Colonel was not fond of being 
 overlooked, even in favour of an interesting son "I 
 shall be happy to do my best to answer your question." 
 
 "Oh! I am so sorry," she said, advancing her fore- 
 head to be kissed ; "but we saw each other the other day, 
 didn't we, and one can't embrace two people at once, 
 and of course one must begin somewhere. But, why 
 have you made him so thin ? " 
 
 The Colonel surveyed Morris critically with his eye- 
 glass. 
 
 " Really, my dear Mary," he replied, " I am not
 
 254 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 responsible for the variations in my son's habit of body. 
 Then, as Morris turned away irritably, he added in a 
 stage whisper, " He's been a bit upset, poor fellow ! 
 He felt your father's death dreadfully." 
 
 Mary winced a little, then, recovering her vivacity, said : 
 
 " Well, at any rate, uncle, I am glad to see that noth- 
 ing of the sort has affected your health ; I never saw you 
 looking better." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear, as we grow older we learn resigna- 
 tion - -" 
 
 " And how to look after ourselves," thought Mary. 
 
 At that moment dinner was announced, and she went 
 in on Morris's arm, the Colonel gallantly insisting that 
 it should be so. After this things progressed a good 
 deal better. The first plunge was over, and the cool 
 refreshing waters of Mary's conversation seemed to give 
 back to Morris's system some of the tone that it had 
 lost. Also, when he thought fit to use it, he had a 
 strong will, and he thought fit this night. Lastly, like 
 many a man in a quandary before him, he discovered the 
 strange advantages of a scientific but liberal absorption 
 of champagne. Mary noticed this as she noticed every- 
 thing, and said presently with her eyes wide open : 
 
 " Might I ask, my dear, if you are ill ? You are 
 eating next to nothing, and that's your fourth large 
 glass of champagne you who never drank more than 
 two. Don't you remember how it used to vex my poor 
 dad, because he said that it always meant half a bottle 
 wasted, and a temptation to the cook ? " 
 
 Morris laughed he was able to laugh by now and 
 replied, as it happened, with perfect truth, that he had 
 an awful toothache.
 
 THE RETURN OF MARY 255 
 
 " Then everything is explained," said Mary. " Did 
 you ever see me with a toothache? Well, I should 
 advise you not, for it would be our last interview. I will 
 paint it for you after dinner with pure carbolic acid; it's 
 splendid, that is if you don't drop any on the patient's 
 tongue." 
 
 Morris answered that he would stick to champagne. 
 Then Mary began to narrate her experiences in the 
 convent in a fashion so funny that the Colonel could 
 scarcely control his laughter, and even Morris, tooth- 
 ache, heartache, and all, was genuinely amused. 
 
 " Imagine, my dear Morris," she said, "you know the 
 time I get down to breakfast. Or perhaps you don't. 
 It's one of those things which I have been careful to con- 
 ceal from you, but you will one day, and I believe that 
 over it our matrimonial happiness may be wrecked. 
 Well, at what hour do you think I found myself expected 
 to be up in that convent? " 
 
 "Seven," suggested Morris. 
 
 " At seven ! At a quarter to five, if you please ! At 
 a quarter to five every morning did some wretched per- 
 son come and ring a dinner-bell outside my door. And 
 it was no use going to sleep again, not the least, for at 
 half-past five two hideous old lay-sisters arrived with 
 buckets of water they have a perfect passion for clean- 
 liness and began to scrub out the cell whether you 
 were in bed or whether you weren't." 
 
 Then she rattled on to other experiences, trivial 
 enough in themselves, but so entertaining when touched 
 and lightened with her native humour, that very soon 
 the evening had worn itself pleasantly away without a 
 single sad or untoward word.
 
 2 $6 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " Good-night, dear ! " said Mary to Morris, who this 
 time managed to embrace her with becoming warmth ; 
 " you will come and see me to-morrow, won't you no, 
 not in the morning. Remember I have been getting up 
 at a quarter to five for a month, and I am trying to 
 equalise matters ; but after luncheon. Then we will sit 
 before a good fire, and have a talk, for the weather is so 
 delightfully bad that I am sure I shan't be forced to 
 take exercise." 
 
 " Very well, at three o'clock," said Morris, when the 
 Colonel, who had been reflecting to himself, broke in. 
 
 " Look here, my dear, you must be down to lunch, or 
 if you are not you ought to be ; so, as I want to have a 
 chat with you about some of your poor father's affairs, 
 and am engaged for the rest of the day, I will come over 
 then if you will allow me." 
 
 " Certainly, uncle, if you like ; but wouldn't Morris do 
 instead as representing me, I mean? " 
 
 " Yes," he answered ; " when you are married he will 
 do perfectly well, but until that happy event I am afraid 
 that I must take your personal opinion." 
 
 " Oh ! very well," said Mary with a sigh ; " I will 
 expect you at a quarter past one."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 Two EXPLANATIONS 
 
 ACCORDINGLY, at a quarter past one on the following 
 day the Colonel arrived at Seaview, went in to lunch 
 with Mary, and made himself very amusing and agree- 
 able about the domestic complications of his old friend, 
 Lady Rawlins and her objectionable husband, and other 
 kindred topics. Then, adroitly enough, he changed the 
 conversation to the subject of the great gale, and when 
 he had talked of it awhile, said suddenly : 
 
 "I suppose that you have heard of the dreadful 
 thing that happened here." 
 
 " What dreadful thing ? " asked Mary. " I have heard 
 nothing ; you must remember that I have been in a 
 convent where one does not see the English papers." 
 
 " The death of Stella Fregelius," said the Colonel 
 sadly. 
 
 " What ! the daughter of the new rector the young 
 lady whom Morris took off the wreck, and whom I have 
 been longing to ask him about, only I forgot last night ? 
 Do you mean to say that she is dead ? " 
 
 " Dead as the sea can make her. She was in the old 
 church yonder when it was swept away, and now lies 
 beneath its ruins in four fathoms of water." 
 
 "How awful!" said Mary. "Tell me about it; how 
 did it happen ? " 
 
 257
 
 258 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 "Well, through Morris, poor fellow, so far as I can 
 make out, and that is why he is so dreadfully cut up. 
 You see she helped him to carry on his experiments 
 with that machine, she sitting in the church and he at 
 home in the Abbey, with a couple of miles of coast and 
 water between them. Well, you are a woman of the 
 world, my dear, and you must know that all this sort of 
 thing means a great deal more intimacy than is de- 
 sirable. How far that intimacy went I do not know, 
 and I do not care to inquire, though for my part I 
 believe that it was a very little way indeed. Still, Eliza 
 Layard got hold of some cock and bull tale, and you 
 can guess the rest." 
 
 " Perfectly," said Mary in a quiet voice, " if Eliza was 
 concerned in it ; but please go on with the story." 
 
 " Well, the gossip came to my ears " 
 
 " Through Eliza ? " queried Mary. 
 
 " Through Eliza, who said " and he told her about 
 
 the incident of the ulster and the dog-cart, adding that 
 he believed it to be entirely untrue. 
 
 As Mary made no comment he went on : "I forgot to 
 say that Miss Fregelius seems to have refused to marry 
 Stephen Layard, who fell violently in love with her, 
 which, to my mind, accounts for some of this gossip. 
 Still, I thought it my duty, and the best thing I could do, 
 to give a friendly hint to the old clergyman, Stella's father, 
 a funny, withered-up old boy by the way. He seems to 
 have spoken to his daughter rather indiscreetly, whereon 
 she waylaid me as I was walking on the sands and in- 
 formed me that she had made up her mind to leave this 
 place for London, where she intended to earn her own 
 living by singing and playing on the violin. I must tell
 
 TWO EXPLANATIONS 259 
 
 you that she played splendidly, and, in my opinion, had 
 one of the most glorious contralto voices that I ever 
 heard." 
 
 " She seems to have been a very attractive young 
 woman," said Mary, in the same quiet, contemplative 
 voice. 
 
 " I think," went on the Colonel, "take her all in all, 
 she was about the most attractive young woman that 
 ever I saw, poor thing. Upon my word, my dear, old 
 as I am, I fell half in love with her myself, and so would 
 you if you had seen those eyes of hers." 
 
 " I remember," broke in Mary, " that old Mr. Tomley, 
 after he returned from inspecting the Northumberland 
 living, spoke about Miss Fregelius's wonderful eyes 
 at the dinner-party, you know, on the night when Morris 
 proposed to me," and she shivered a little as though she 
 had turned suddenly cold. 
 
 " Well, let me go on with my story. After she had 
 told me this, and I had promised to help her with intro- 
 ductions exactly why or how I forget but I asked 
 her flat out if she was in love with Morris. Thereon 
 I assure you, my dear Mary, it was the most painful 
 scene in all my long experience the poor thing turned 
 white as a sheet, and would have fallen if I had not 
 caught hold of her. When she came to herself a little, 
 she admitted frankly that this was her case, but added 
 of which, of course, one may believe as much as one 
 likes, that she had never known it until I asked the 
 question." 
 
 " I think that quite possible," said Mary ; " and really, 
 uncle, to me your cross-examination seems to have been 
 slightly indiscreet."
 
 260 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " Possibly, my dear, very possibly ; even Solomon 
 might be excused for occasionally making a mistake 
 where the mysterious articles which young ladies call 
 their hearts are concerned. I tell what happened, that 
 is all. Shall I go on ? " 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 " Well, after this she announced that she meant to 
 see Morris once to say good-bye to him before she went 
 to London, and left me. Practically the next thing I 
 heard about her was that she was dead." 
 
 " Did she commit suicide ? " asked Mary. 
 
 " It is said not ; it is suggested that after Morris's 
 interview with her in the Dead Church for I gather 
 there was an interview though nobody knows about it, 
 and that's where they met she fell asleep, which 
 sounds an odd thing to do in the midst of such a gale 
 as was raging on Christmas Eve, and so was over- 
 whelmed. But who can say? Impressionable and 
 unhappy women have done such deeds before now, 
 especially if they imagine themselves to have become 
 the object of gossip. Of course, also, the mere possi- 
 bility of such a thing having happened on his account 
 would be, and indeed has been, enough to drive a man 
 like Morris crazy with grief and remorse." 
 
 " What had he to be remorseful for ? " asked Mary. 
 " If a young woman chanced to fall in love with him, 
 why should he be blamed, or blame himself for that ? 
 After all, people's affections are in their own keeping." 
 
 " I imagine very little, if anything. At least, I 
 know this, that when I spoke to him about the matter 
 after my talk with her, I gathered from what he said 
 that there was absolutely nothing between them. To
 
 TWO EXPLANATIONS 261 
 
 be quite frank, however, as I have tried to be with 
 you, my dear, throughout this conversation, I also gath- 
 ered that this young lady had produced a certain effect 
 upon his mind, or at least that the knowledge that she 
 had avowed herself to be attached to him which I am 
 afraid I let out, for I was in a great rage produced 
 some such effect. Well, afterwards I believe, although 
 I have asked no questions and am not sure of it, he 
 went and said good-bye to her in this church, at her 
 request. Then this dreadful tragedy happened, and 
 there is an end of her and her story." 
 
 " Have you any object in telling it to me, uncle ? " 
 
 "Yes, my dear, I have. I wished you to know the 
 real facts before they reached you in whatever distorted 
 version Morris's fancy or imagination, or exaggerated 
 candour, may induce him to present them to you. Also, 
 my dear, even if you find, or think you find that you 
 have cause of complaint against him, I hope that you 
 will see your way to being lenient and shutting your 
 eyes a little." 
 
 "Severity was never my strong point," interrupted 
 Mary. 
 
 " For this reason," went on the Colonel ; " the young 
 woman concerned was a very remarkable person ; if you 
 could have heard her sing, for instance, you would have 
 said so yourself. It is a humiliating confession, but I 
 doubt whether one young man out of a hundred, single, 
 engaged, or married, could have resisted being attracted 
 by her to just such an extent as she pleased, especially 
 if he were flattered by the knowledge that she was gen- 
 uinely attracted by himself." 
 
 Mary made no answer.
 
 262 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " Didn't you say you had some documents you wanted 
 me to sign ? " she asked presently. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; here is the thing," and he pulled a paper 
 out of his pocket ; " the lawyers write that it need not 
 be witnessed." 
 
 Mary glanced at it. " Couldn't Morris have brought 
 this ? he is your co-executor, isn't he ? and saved 
 you the trouble ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly he could; but " 
 
 " But what ? " 
 
 "Well, if you want to know, my dear," said the 
 Colonel, with a grave countenance, "just now Morris is 
 in a state in which I do not care to leave more of this 
 important business in his hands than is necessary." 
 
 " What am I to understand by that, uncle ? " she said, 
 looking at him shrewdly. " Do you mean that he is 
 not quite well ? " 
 
 "Yes, Mary, I mean that he is not quite well ; that is, 
 if my observation goes for anything. I mean," he went 
 on with quiet vehemence, " I mean that just at present, 
 of course, he has been so upset by this miserable affair 
 that for my part I wouldn't put any confidence in what 
 he says about it, or about anything else. The thing has got 
 upon his nerves and rendered him temporarily unfit for 
 the business of ordinary life. You know that at the best 
 of times he is a very peculiar man and not quite like 
 other people. 
 
 "Well, have you signed that? Thank you, my dear. 
 By Jove ! I must be off ; I shall be late as it is. I may 
 rely upon your discretion as to what we have been talk- 
 ing about, may I not ? but I thought it as well to let you 
 know how the land lay."
 
 TWO EXPLANATIONS 263 
 
 "Yes, uncle; and thank you for taking so much 
 trouble." 
 
 When the door had closed behind him Mary reflected 
 awhile. Then she said to herself : 
 
 " He thinks Morris is a little off his head, and has 
 come here to warn me. I should not be surprised, and 
 I daresay that he is right. Any way, a new trouble has 
 risen up between us, the shadow of another woman, poor 
 thing. Well, shadows melt, and the dead do not come 
 back. She seems to have been very charming and 
 clever, and I daresay that she fascinated him for a while, 
 but with kindness and patience it will all come right. 
 Only I do hope that he will not insist upon making me 
 too many confidences." 
 
 So thought Mary, who by nature was forgiving, gentle, 
 and an optimist; not guessing how sorely her patience as 
 an affianced wife, and her charity as a woman of the 
 world, would be tried within the hour. 
 
 From all of which it will be seen that for once the 
 diplomacy of the Colonel had prospered somewhat 
 beyond its deserts. The departed cannot explain or 
 defend themselves, and Morris's possible indiscretions 
 already stood discounted in the only quarter where they 
 might do harm. 
 
 Half an hour later Mary, sitting beside the fire with 
 her toes upon the grate and her face to the window, 
 perceived Morris on the gravel drive, wearing a pre- 
 occupied and rather wretched air. She noted, moreover, 
 that before he rang the bell he paused for a moment as 
 though to shake himself together. 
 
 " Here you are at last," she said, cheerfully, as he 
 bent down to kiss her, " seven whole minutes before your
 
 264 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 time, which is very nice of you. Now, sit down there 
 and get warm, and we will have a good, long talk." 
 
 Morris obeyed. " My father has been lunching with 
 you, has he not?" he said somewhat nervously. 
 
 "Yes, dear, and telling me all the news, and a sad 
 budget it seems to be ; about the dreadful disasters of the 
 great gale and the death of that poor girl who was 
 staying with you, Miss Fregelius." 
 
 At the mention of this name Morris's face contorted 
 itself, as the face of a man might do who was seized with 
 a sudden pang of sharp and unexpected agony. 
 
 " Mary," he said, in a hoarse and broken voice, " I 
 have a confession to make to you, and I must make it 
 about this dead woman, I mean. I will not sail under 
 false colours; you must know all the truth, and then 
 judge." 
 
 " Dear me," she answered ; " this sounds dreadfully 
 tragic. But I may as well tell you at once that I have 
 already heard some gossip." 
 
 " I daresay ; but you cannot have heard all the truth, 
 for it was known only to me and her." 
 
 Now, do what she would to prevent it, her alarm 
 showed itself in Mary's eyes. 
 
 " What am I to understand ? " she said in a low voice 
 and she looked a question. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " he answered with a faint smile ; "nothing 
 at all " 
 
 " Not that you have been embracing her, for instance ? 
 That, I understand, is Eliza Layard's story." 
 
 " No, no ; I never did such a thing in my life." 
 
 A little sigh of relief broke from Mary's lips. At the 
 worst this was but an affair of sentiment.
 
 TWO EXPLANATION'S 26$ 
 
 " I think, dear," she said in her ordinary slow voice, 
 " that you had better set out the trouble in your own 
 words, with as few details as possible, or none at all. 
 Such things are painful, are they not especially where 
 the dead are concerned ? " 
 
 Morris bowed his head and began : " You know I 
 found her on the ship, singing as she only could sing, 
 and she was a very strange and beautiful woman 
 perhaps beautiful is not the word " 
 
 " It will do," interrupted Mary ; " at any rate, you 
 thought her beautiful." 
 
 "Then afterwards we grew intimate, very intimate, 
 without knowing it, almost indeed, I am not sure that 
 we should ever have known it had it not been for the 
 mischief-making of Eliza Layard 
 
 " May she be rewarded ! " ejaculated Mary. 
 
 "Well, and after she that is, Eliza Layard had 
 spoken to my father, he attacked Mr. Fregelius, his 
 daughter, and myself, and it seems that she confessed 
 to my father that she was was 
 
 "In love with you not altogether unnatural, per- 
 haps, from my point of view; though, of course, she 
 oughtn't to have been so." 
 
 " Yes, and said that she was going away and on 
 Christmas Eve we met there in the Dead Church. Then 
 somehow for I had no intention of such a thing all 
 the truth came out, and I found that I was no longer 
 master of myself, and God forgive me ! and you, Mary, 
 forgive me, too that I loved her also." 
 
 "And afterwards?" said Mary, moving her skirts a 
 little. 
 
 " And afterwards oh ! it will sound strange to you
 
 266 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 we made some kind of compact for the next world, 
 a sort of spiritual marriage ; I can call it nothing else. 
 Then I shook hands with her and went away, and in 
 a few hours she was dead dead. But the compact 
 stands, Mary ; yes, that compact stands for ever." 
 
 " A compact of a spiritual marriage in a place where 
 there is no marriage. Do you mean, Morris, that you 
 wish this strange proceeding to destroy your physical 
 and earthly engagement to myself ? " 
 
 " No, no ; nor did she wish it ; she said so. But you 
 must judge. I feel that I have done you a dreadful 
 wrong, and I was determined that you should know the 
 worst." 
 
 " That is very good of you," Mary said, reflectively, 
 " for really there is no reason why you should have told 
 me this peculiar story. Morris, you have been working 
 pretty hard lately, have you not ? " 
 
 " Yes," he replied, absently, " I suppose I have." 
 
 " Was this young lady what is called a mystic ? " 
 
 "Perhaps. Danish people often are. At any rate, 
 she saw things more clearly than most. I mean that 
 the future was nearer to her mind ; and in a sense, the 
 past also." 
 
 " Indeed. You must have found her a congenial 
 companion. I suppose that you talked a good deal of 
 these things ? " 
 
 " Sometimes we did." 
 
 " And discovered that your views were curiously alike ? 
 For when one mystic meets another mystic, and the other 
 mystic has beautiful eyes and sings divinely, the spiritual 
 marriage will follow almost as a matter of course. What 
 else is to be expected ? But I am glad that you were
 
 TWO EXPLANATIONS 267 
 
 faithful to your principles, both of you, and clung fast 
 to the etherial side of things." 
 
 Morris writhed beneath this satire, but finding no con- 
 venient answer to it, made none. 
 
 " Do you remember, my dear ? " went on Mary, " the 
 conversation we had one day in your workshop before 
 we were engaged that's years ago, isn't it about 
 star-gazing considered as a fine art ? " 
 
 " I remember something," he said. 
 
 " That I told you, for instance, that it might be better 
 if you paid a little more attention to matters physical, 
 lest otherwise you should go on praying for vision till 
 you could see, and for power until you could create ? " 
 
 Morris nodded. 
 
 " Well, and I think I said didn't I ? that if you in- 
 sisted upon following these spiritual exercises, the result 
 might be that they would return upon you in some con- 
 crete shape, and take possession of you, and lead you 
 into company and surroundings which most of us think 
 it wholesome to avoid." 
 
 " Yes, you said something like that." 
 
 " It wasn't a bad bit of prophecy, was it ? " went on 
 Mary, rubbing her chin reflectively, "and you see his 
 Satanic Majesty knew very well how to bring about its 
 fulfilment. Mystical, lovely, and a wonderful mistress 
 of music, which you adore ; really, one would think that 
 the bait must have been specially selected." 
 
 Crushed though he was, Morris's temper began to rise 
 beneath the lash of Mary's sarcasm. He knew, how- 
 ever, that it was her method of showing jealousy and 
 displeasure, both of them perfectly natural, and did his 
 best to restrain himself.
 
 268 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 "I do not quite understand you," he said. "Also, 
 you are unjust to her." 
 
 " Not at all. I daresay that in herself she was what 
 you think her, a perfect angel ; indeed, the descriptions 
 that I have heard from your father and yourself leave 
 no doubt of it in my mind. But even angels have been 
 put to bad purposes ; perhaps their innocence makes it 
 possible to take advantage of them 
 
 He opened his lips to speak, but she held up her hand 
 and went on : 
 
 "You mustn't think me unsympathetic because I 
 put things as they appear to my very mundane mind. 
 Look here, Morris, it just comes to this : If this exceed- 
 ingly attractive young lady had made love to you, or 
 had induced you to make love to her, so that you ran 
 away with her, or anything else, of course you would 
 have behaved badly and cruelly to me, but at least your 
 conduct would be natural, and to be explained. We all 
 know that men do this kind of thing, and women too, 
 for the matter of that, under the influence of passion 
 and are often very sorry for it afterwards. But she 
 didn't do this; she took you on your weak side, which 
 she understood thoroughly probably because it was 
 her own weak side and out-Heroded Herod, or, 
 rather, out-mysticised the mystic, finishing up with some 
 spiritual marriage, which, if it is anything at all, is 
 impious. What right have we to make bargains for 
 the Beyond, about which we know nothing ? " 
 
 " She did know something," said Morris, with a sullen 
 conviction. 
 
 "You think she did because you were reduced to a 
 state of mind in which, if she had told you that the sun
 
 TWO EXPLANATIONS 269 
 
 goes round the earth, you would quite readily have 
 believed her. My dearest Morris, that way madness 
 lies. Perhaps you understand now what I have been 
 driving at, and the best proof of the absurdity of the 
 whole thing is that I, stupid as I am, from my intimate 
 knowledge of your character since childhood, was able 
 to predict that something of this sort would certainly 
 happen to you. You will admit that is a little odd, 
 won't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, it's odd ; or, perhaps, it shows that you have 
 more of the inner sight than you know. But there were 
 circumstances about the story which you would find 
 difficult to explain." 
 
 " Not in the least. In your own answer lies the expla- 
 nation your tendency to twist things. I prophesy 
 certain developments from my knowledge of your char- 
 acter, whereupon you at once credit me with second 
 sight, which is absurd." 
 
 " I don't see the analogy," said Morris. 
 
 " Don't you ? I do. All this soul business is just 
 a love affair gone wrong. If circumstances had been 
 a little different if, for instance, there had been no 
 Mary Porson I doubt whether anybody would have 
 heard much about spiritual marriages. Somehow I 
 think that things would have settled down into a more 
 usual groove." 
 
 Morris did not attempt to answer. He felt that Mary 
 held all the cards, and, not unnaturally, was in a mood to 
 play them. Moreover, it was desecration to him to dis- 
 cuss Stella's most secret beliefs with any other woman, 
 and especially with Mary. Their points of view were 
 absolutely and radically different. The conflict was a
 
 2/0 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 conflict between the natural and the spiritual law ; or, in 
 other words, between hard, brutal facts, and theories as 
 impalpable as the perfume of a flower, or the sound 
 waves that stirred his aerophone. Moreover, he could 
 see clearly that Mary's interpretation of this story was 
 simple ; namely, that he had fallen into temptation, and 
 that the shock of his parting from the lady concerned, 
 followed by her sudden and violent death, had bred 
 illusions in his mind. In short, that he was slightly 
 crazy ; therefore, to be well scolded, pitied, and looked 
 after rather than sincerely blamed. The position was 
 scarcely heroic, or one that any man would choose to fill; 
 still, he felt that it had its conveniences ; that, at any 
 rate, it must be accepted. 
 
 "All these questions are very much a matter of opin- 
 ion," he said ; then added, unconsciously reflecting one 
 of Stella's sayings, " and I daresay that the truth is for 
 each of us exactly what each of us imagines it to be." 
 
 " I was always taught that the truth is the truth, quite 
 irrespective of our vague and often silly imaginings ; the 
 difficulty being to find out exactly what it is." 
 
 " Perhaps," answered Morris, declining argument 
 which is always useless between people who are deter- 
 mined not to sympathise with each other's views. " I 
 knew that you would think my story foolish. I should 
 never have troubled you with it, had I not felt it to be 
 my duty, for naturally the telling of such a tale puts a 
 man in a ridiculous light." 
 
 " I don't think you ridiculous, Morris ; I think that 
 you are suffering slightly from shock, that is all. What 
 I say is that I detest all this spiritual hocus-pocus to 
 which you have always had a leaning. I fear and hate
 
 TWO EXPLANATIONS 2/1 
 
 it instinctively, as some people hate cats, because I know 
 that it breeds mischief, and that, as I said before, people 
 who go on trying to see, do see, or fancy that they do. 
 While we are in the world let the world and its limita- 
 tions be enough for us. When we go out of the world, 
 then the supernatural may become the natural, and 
 cease to be hurtful and alarming." 
 
 " Yes," said Morris, " those are very good rules. 
 Well, Mary, I have told you the history of this sad 
 adventure of which the book is now closed by death, 
 and I can only say that I am humiliated. If anybody 
 had said to me six months ago that I should have to 
 come to you with such a confession, I should have 
 answered that he was a liar. But now you see " 
 
 "Yes," repeated Mary, "I see." 
 
 " Then will you give me your answer ? For you must 
 judge; I have told you that you must judge." 
 
 "Judge not, that ye be not judged," answered Mary. 
 " Who am I that I should pass sentence on your fail- 
 ings ? Goodness knows that I have plenty of my own ; 
 if you don't believe me, go and ask the nuns at that 
 convent. Whatever were the rights or the wrongs of it, 
 the thing is finished and done with, and nobody can be 
 more sorry for that unfortunate girl than I am. Also I 
 think that you have behaved very well in coming to tell 
 me about your trouble; but then that is like you, Morris, 
 for you couldn't be deceitful, however hard you might try. 
 
 " So, dear, with your leave, we will say no more about 
 Stella Fregelius and her spiritual views. When I en- 
 gaged myself to you, as I told you at the time, I did so 
 with my eyes open, for better or for worse, and unless 
 you tell me right out that you don't want me, I have no
 
 2/2 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 intention of changing my mind, especially as you need 
 looking after, and are not likely to come across another 
 Stella. 
 
 " There, I haven't talked so much for months ; I am 
 quite tired, and wish to forget all about these disagree- 
 ables. I am afraid I have spoken sharply, but if so you 
 must make allowances, for such stories are apt to sour 
 the sweetest-tempered women for half an hour. If I 
 have seemed bitter and cross, dear, it is because I love 
 you better than any creature in the world, and can't bear 
 
 to think So you must forgive me. Do you, 
 
 Morris ? " 
 
 " Forgive ! / forgive ! " he stammered overwhelmed. 
 
 " There," she said again, very softly, stretching out 
 her arms, " come and give me a kiss, and let us change 
 the subject once and for ever. I want to tell you about 
 my poor father; he left some messages for you, Morris."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MORRIS, THE MARRIED MAN 
 
 MORE than three years had gone by. Within twelve 
 weeks of the date of the conversation recorded in the 
 last chapter Morris and Mary were married in Monks- 
 land church. Although the wedding was what is called 
 " quiet " on account of the recent death of the bride's 
 father, the Colonel, who gave her away, was careful that 
 it should be distinguished by a certain stamp of modest 
 dignity, which he considered to be fitting to the station 
 and fortune of the parties. To him, indeed, this union 
 was the cause of heartfelt and earnest rejoicings, which 
 is not strange, seeing that it meant nothing less than 
 a new lease of life to an ancient family that was on 
 the verge of disappearance. Had Morris not married 
 the race would have become extinct, at any rate in the 
 direct line; and had he married where there was no 
 money, it might, as his father thought, become bankrupt, 
 which in his view was almost worse. 
 
 The one terror which had haunted the Colonel for 
 years like a persistent nightmare was that a day seemed 
 to be at hand when the Monks would be driven from 
 Monksland, where, from sire to son, they had sat for 
 so many generations. That day had nearly come when 
 he was a young man ; indeed, it was only averted by his 
 marriage with the somewhat humbly born Miss Person, 
 
 273
 
 2/4 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 who brought with her sufficient dowry to enable him to 
 pay off the major portion of the mortgages which then 
 crippled the estate. But at that time agriculture flour- 
 ished, and the rents from the property were considerable ; 
 moreover, the Colonel was never of a frugal turn of 
 mind. So it came about that every farthing was spent. 
 
 Afterwards followed a period of falling revenues and 
 unlet farms. But still the expenses went on, with the 
 result, as the reader knows, that at the opening of this 
 history things were worse than they had ever been, and 
 indeed, without the help received from Mr. Person, must 
 ere that have reached their natural end. Now the mar- 
 riage of his son with a wealthy heiress set a period to 
 all such anxiety, and unless the couple should be disap- 
 pointed of issue, made it as certain as anything can be in 
 this mutable world, that for some generations to come, 
 at any rate, the name of Monk of Monksland would still 
 appear in the handbooks of county families. 
 
 In the event these fears proved to be groundless, 
 since by an unexpected turn of the wheel of chance 
 Morris became a rich man in reward of his own exer- 
 tions, and was thus made quite independent of his wife's 
 large fortune. This, however, was a circumstance which 
 the Colonel could not be expected to foresee, for how 
 could he believe that an electrical invention which he 
 looked upon as a mere scientific toy would ultimately 
 bring to its author not only fame, but an income of 
 many thousands per annum ? Yet this happened. 
 
 Other things happened also which, under the circum- 
 stances, were quite as satisfactory, seeing that within 
 two years of his marriage Morris was the father of a 
 son and daughter, so that the old Abbey, where, by the
 
 MORRIS, THE MARRIED MAN 275 
 
 especial request of the Colonel, they had established 
 themselves, once more echoed to the voices of little 
 children. 
 
 In those days, if anyone among his acquaintance had 
 been asked to point out an individual as prosperous and 
 happy as, under the most favoured circumstances, it is 
 given to a mortal to be, he would unhesitatingly have 
 named Morris Monk. 
 
 What was there lacking to this man? He had lineage 
 that in his own neighbourhood gave him standing better 
 than that of many an upstart baronet or knight, and 
 with it health and wealth. He had a wife who was 
 acknowledged universally to be one of the most beauti- 
 ful, charming, and witty women in the county, whose 
 devotion to himself was so marked and open that it be- 
 came a public jest; who had, moreover, presented him 
 with healthy and promising offspring. In addition to 
 all these good things he had suddenly become in his 
 own line one of the most famous persons in the world, 
 so that, wherever civilized man was to be found, there 
 his name was known as " Monk, who invented that 
 marvellous machine, the aerophone." Lastly, there 
 was no more need for him, as for most of us, to stagger 
 down his road beneath a never lessening burden of 
 daily labour. His work was done ; a great conception 
 completed after half a score of years of toil and experi- 
 ment had crowned it with unquestionable success. Now 
 he could sit at ease and watch the struggles of others 
 less fortunate. 
 
 There are, however, few men on the right side of 
 sixty whose souls grow healthier in idleness. Although
 
 2/6 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 nature often recoils from it, man was made to work, and 
 he who will not work calls down upon himself some 
 curse, visible or invisible, as he who works, although 
 the toil seem wasted, wakes up one day to find the 
 arid wilderness where he wanders strown with a 
 manna of blessing. This should be the prayer of all 
 of understanding, that whatever else it may please 
 Heaven to take away, there may be left to them the 
 power and the will to work, through disappointment, 
 through rebuffs, through utter failure even, still to 
 work. Many things for which they are or are not 
 wholly responsible are counted to men as sins. Surely, 
 however, few will press more heavily upon the beam of 
 the balance, when at length we are commanded to un- 
 fold the talents which we have been given and earned, 
 than those fateful words : " Lord, mine lies buried in 
 its napkin," or worse still : " Lord, I have spent mine 
 on the idle pleasures which my body loved." 
 
 Therefore it was not to the true welfare of Morris 
 when through lack of further ambition, or rather of the 
 sting of that spur of necessity which drives most men 
 on, he rested upon his oars, and in practice abandoned 
 his labours, drifting down the tide. No man of high 
 intelligence and acquisitive brain can toil arduously for 
 a period of years and suddenly cease from troubling to 
 find himself, as he expects, at rest For then into the 
 swept and garnished chambers of that empty mind enter 
 seven or more blue devils. Depression marks him for 
 its own ; melancholy forebodings haunt him ; remorse for 
 past misdeeds long repented of is his daily companion. 
 With these Erinnyes, more felt perhaps than any of 
 them, comes the devastating sense that he is thwarting
 
 MORRIS, THE MARRIED MAN 2/7 
 
 the best instinct of his own nature and the divine com- 
 mand to labour while there is still light, because the 
 night draws on apace in which no man can labour. 
 
 Mary was fond of society, in which she liked to be 
 accompanied by her husband, so Morris, whose one 
 great anxiety was to please his wife and fall in with 
 her every wish, went to a great many parties which he 
 hated. Mary liked change also, so it came about that 
 three months in the season were spent in London, where 
 they had purchased a house in Green Street that was 
 much frequented by the Colonel, and another two, or 
 sometimes three, months at the villa on the Riviera, 
 which Mary was very fond of on account of its asso- 
 ciations with her parents. 
 
 Also in the summer and shooting seasons, when they 
 were at home, the old Abbey was kept full of guests; 
 for we may be sure that people so rich and distinguished 
 did not lack for friends, and Mary made the very best 
 of hostesses. 
 
 Thus it happened that except at the seasons when 
 his wife retired under the pressure of domestic occur- 
 rences, Morris found that he had but little time left in 
 which to be quiet ; that his life in short was no longer 
 the life of a worker, but that of the commonplace coun- 
 try gentleman of wealth and fashion. 
 
 Now it was Mary who had brought? these things 
 about, and by design; for she was not a woman to act 
 without reasons and an object. It is true that she liked 
 a gay and pleasant life, for gaiety and pleasure were 
 agreeable to her easy and somewhat indolent mind, also 
 they gave her opportunities of exercising her faculties 
 of observation, which were considerable.
 
 278 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 But Mary was far fonder of her husband than of these 
 and other vanities ; indeed, her affection for him shone 
 the guiding star of her existence. From her childhood 
 she had been devoted to this cousin, who, since her 
 earliest days, had been her playmate, and at heart had 
 wished to marry him, and no one else. Then he began 
 his experiments, and drifted quite away from her. 
 Afterwards things changed, and they became engaged. 
 Again the experiments were carried on, with the aid of 
 another woman, and again he drifted away from her ; 
 also the drifting in this instance was attended by serious 
 and painful complications. 
 
 Now the complications had ceased to exist; they 
 threatened her happiness no more. Indeed, had they 
 been much worse than they were she would have over- 
 looked them, being altogether convinced of the truth of 
 the old adage which points out the folly of cutting off 
 one's nose to spite one's face. Whatever his failings or 
 shortcomings, Morris was her joy, the human being in 
 whose company she delighted ; without whom, indeed, 
 her life would be flat, stale, and unprofitable. The 
 stronger then was her determination that he should not 
 slip back into his former courses ; those courses which 
 in the end had always brought about estrangement from 
 herself. 
 
 Inventions, the details of which she could not under- 
 stand, meant, as she knew well, long days and weeks of 
 solitary brooding ; therefore, inventions, and, indeed, all 
 unnecessary work, were in his case to be discouraged. 
 Such solitary brooding also drew from the mind of 
 Morris a vague mist of thought about matters esoteric 
 which, to Mary's belief, had the properties of a miasma
 
 MORRIS, THE MARRIED MAN 279 
 
 that crept like poison through his being. She wished 
 for no more star-gazing, no more mysticism, and, above 
 all, no more memories of the interloping woman who, in 
 his company, had studied its doubtful and dangerous 
 delights. 
 
 Although since the day of Morris's confession Mary 
 had never even mentioned the name of Stella to him, 
 she by no means forgot that such a person once existed. 
 Indeed, carelessly and without seeming to be anxious on 
 the subject, she informed herself about her down to the 
 last possible detail ; so that within a few months of the 
 death of Miss Fregelius she knew, as she thought, 
 everything that could be known of her life at Monks- 
 land. Moreover, she saw three different pictures of 
 her : one a somewhat prim photograph which Mr. 
 Fregelius, her father, possessed, taken when she was 
 about twenty; another, a coloured drawing made by 
 Morris who was rather clever at catching likenesses 
 of her as she appeared singing in the chapel on the 
 night when she had drawn the page-boy, Thomas, from 
 his slumbers ; and the third, also a photograph, taken by 
 some local amateur, of her and Morris standing together 
 on the beach and engaged evidently in eager discussion. 
 
 From these three pictures, and especially from 
 Morris's sketch, which showed the spiritual light shining 
 in her eyes, and her face rapt, as it were, in a very 
 ecstasy of music, Mary was able to fashion with some 
 certainty the likeness of the living woman. The more 
 she studied this the more she found it formidable, 
 and the more she understood how it came about that 
 her husband had fallen into folly. Also, she learned to 
 understand that there might be greater weight and
 
 280 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 meaning in his confession than she had been inclined 
 to allow to it at the time ; that, at any rate, its extrava- 
 gances ought not to be set down entirely, as her father- 
 in-law had suggested with such extreme cleverness, to the 
 vagaries of a mind suffering from sudden shock and alarm. 
 
 All these conclusions made Mary anxious, by wrap- 
 ping her husband round with common domestic cares and 
 a web of daily, social incident, to bury the memory of this 
 Stella beneath ever-thickening strata of forgetfulness ; 
 not that in themselves these reminiscences, however hal- 
 lowed, could do her any further actual harm ; but because 
 the train of thought evoked thereby was, as she conceived, 
 morbid, and dangerous to the balance of his mind. 
 
 The plan seemed wise and good, and, in the case 
 of most men, probably would have succeeded. Yet in 
 Morris's instance from the commencement it was a fail- 
 ure. She had begun by making his story and ideas, ab- 
 surd enough on the face of them, an object of somewhat 
 acute sarcasm, if not of ridicule. This was a mistake, 
 since thereby she caused him to suppress every outward 
 evidence of them ; to lock them away in the most secret 
 recesses of his heart. If the lid of a caldron full of 
 fluid is screwed down while a fire continues to burn 
 beneath it, the steam which otherwise would have 
 passed away harmlessly, gathers and struggles till the 
 moment of inevitable catastrophe. The fact that for a 
 while the caldron remains inert and the steam invisible 
 is no indication of safety. To attain safety in such a 
 case either the fire must be raked out or the fluid 
 tapped. Mary had screwed down the lid of her domes- 
 tic caldron, but the flame still burned beneath, and the 
 water still boiled within.
 
 MORRIS, THE MARRIED MAN 28 1 
 
 This was her first error, and the second proved almost 
 as mischievous. She thought to divert Morris from a 
 central idea by a multitude of petty counter-attractions ; 
 she believed that by stopping him from the scientific 
 labours and esoteric speculation connected with this 
 idea, that it would be deadened and in time obliterated. 
 
 As a matter of fact, by thus emptying his mind of its 
 serious and accustomed occupations, Mary made room 
 for the very development she dreaded to flourish like 
 an upas tree. For although he breathed no word of it, 
 although he showed no sign of it, to Morris the memory 
 of the dead was a constant companion. Time heals 
 all things, that is the common saying ; but would it 
 be possible to formulate any fallacy more complete ? 
 There are many wounds that time does not heal, and 
 often enough against the dead it has no power at all 
 for how can time compete against the eternity of which 
 they have become a part? The love of them where 
 they have been truly loved, remains quite unaltered ; 
 in some instances, indeed, it is endued with a power of 
 terrible and amazing growth. 
 
 On earth, very probably, that deep affection would 
 have become subject to the natural influences of 
 weakening and decay; and, in the instance of a man 
 and woman, the soul-possessing passion might have 
 passed, to be replaced by a more moderate, custom-worn 
 affection. But the dead are beyond the reach of those 
 mouldering fingers. There they stand, perfect and un- 
 alterable, with arms which never cease from beckoning, 
 with a smile that never grows less sweet. Come storm, 
 come shine, nothing can tarnish the pure and gleaming 
 robes in which our vision clothes them. We know the
 
 282 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 worst of them ; their faults and failings cannot vex us 
 afresh, their errors are all forgiven. It is their best part 
 only that remains unrealised and unread, their purest 
 aspirations which we follow with leaden wings, their 
 deepest thoughts that we still strive to plumb with the 
 short line of our imagination or experience, and to weigh 
 in our imperfect balances. 
 
 Yes, there they stand, and smile, and beckon, while 
 ever more radiant grow their brows, and more to be de- 
 sired the knowledge of their perfected majesty. There is 
 no human passion like this passion for the dead ; none so 
 awful, none so holy, none so changeless. For they have 
 become eternal, and our desire for them is sealed with the 
 stamp of their eternity, and strengthens in the shadow 
 of its wings till the shadows flee away and we pass to 
 greet them in the dawn of the immortal morning. 
 
 Yes, within the secret breast of Morris the flame of 
 memory still burned, and still seethed those bitter waters 
 of desire for the dead. There was nothing carnal about 
 this desire, since the passions of the flesh perish with 
 the flesh. Nor was there anything of what a man may 
 feel when he sees the woman whom he loves and who 
 loves him, forced to another fate, for to those he robs 
 death has this advantage over the case of other success- 
 ful rivals: his embrace purifies, and of it we are not jeal- 
 ous. The longing was spiritual, and for this reason it 
 did not weaken, but, indeed, became a part of him, to 
 grow with the spirit from which it took its birth. Still, 
 had it not been for a chance occurrence, there, in the 
 spirit, it might have remained buried, in due course to 
 pass away with it and seek its expression in unknown 
 conditions and regions unexplored.
 
 MORRIS, THE MARRIED MAN 283 
 
 In a certain fashion Morris was happy enough. He 
 was very fond of his wife, and he adored his little chil- 
 dren as men of tender nature do adore those that are 
 helpless, and for whose existence they are responsible. 
 He appreciated his public reputation, his wealth, and the 
 luxury that lapped him round, and above all he was glad 
 to have been the means of restoring, and, indeed, of 
 advancing the fortunes of his family. 
 
 Moreover, as has been said, above all things he desired 
 to please Mary, the lovely, amiable woman who had com- 
 plimented him with her unvarying affection ; and when 
 he went astray who, with scarcely a reproach, had led 
 him back into its gentle fold. Least of all, therefore, 
 was it his will to flaunt before her eyes the spectre from 
 a past which she wished to forget, or even to let her guess 
 that such a past still permeated his present. There- 
 fore, on this subject settled the silence of the dead, till 
 at length Mary, observant as she was, became well-nigh 
 convinced that Stella Fregelius was forgotten, and that 
 her fantastic promises were disproved. Yet no mistake 
 could have been more profound. 
 
 It was Morris's habit, whenever he could secure an 
 evening to himself, which was not very often, to walk 
 to the Rectory and smoke his pipe in the company of Mr. 
 Fregelius. Had Mary chanced to be invisibly present, 
 or to peruse a stenographic report of what passed 
 at one of these evening calls whereof, for reasons 
 which she suppressed, she did not entirely approve 
 she might have found sufficient cause to vary her opinion. 
 On these occasions ostensibly Morris went to talk about 
 parish affairs, and, indeed, to a certain extent he did 
 talk about them. For instance, Stella who had been so
 
 284 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 fond of music, once described to him the organ which 
 she would like to place in the fine old parish church of 
 Monksland. Now that renovated instrument stood 
 there, and was the admiration of the country-side, as it 
 well might be in view of the fact that it had cost over 
 four thousand pounds. 
 
 Again, Mr. Fregelius wished to erect a monument to 
 his daughter, which, as her body never had been found, 
 could properly be placed in the chancel of the church. 
 Morris entered heartily into the idea and undertook to 
 spend the hundred pounds which the old gentleman had 
 saved for this purpose on his account and to the best ad- 
 vantage. In effect he did spend it to excellent advantage, 
 as Mr. Fregelius admitted when the monument arrived. 
 
 It was a lovely thing, executed by one of the first 
 sculptors of the day, in white marble upon a black stone 
 bed, and represented the mortal shape of Stella. There 
 she lay to the very life, wrapped in a white robe, por- 
 trayed as a sleeper awakening from the last sleep of 
 death, her eyes wide and wondering, and on her face 
 that rapt look which Morris had caught in his sketch 
 of her, singing in the chapel. At the edge of the base 
 of this remarkable effigy, set flush on the black marble in 
 letters of plain copper was her name Stella Fregelius 
 with the date of her death. On one side appeared the 
 text that she had quoted, " O death, where is thy sting?" 
 on the other its continuation, " O grave, where is thy 
 victory ? " and at the foot part of a verse from the 
 forty-second psalm : " Deep calleth unto deep. ... All 
 Thy waves and storms have gone over me." 
 
 Like the organ, this monument, which stood in the 
 chancel, was much admired by everybody, except Mary,
 
 MORRIS, THE MARRIED MAN 285 
 
 who found it rather theatrical ; and, indeed, when nobody 
 was looking, surveyed it with a gloomy and a doubtful eye. 
 
 That Morris had something to do with the thing she 
 was quite certain, since she knew well that Mr. Fregelius 
 would never have invented any memorial so beautiful 
 and full of symbolism ; also she doubted his ability to 
 pay for a piece of statuary which must have cost many 
 hundreds of pounds. A third reason, which seemed to 
 her conclusive, was that the face on the statue was the 
 very face of Morris's drawing, although, of course, it was 
 possible that Mr. Fregelius might have borrowed the 
 sketch for the use of the sculptor. But of all this, 
 although it disturbed her, occurring as it did just when she 
 hoped that Stella was beginning to be forgotten, she spoke 
 not a word to Morris. " Least said, soonest mended," is 
 a good if a homely motto, or so thought Mary. 
 
 The monument had been in place a year, but whenever 
 he was at home Morris's visits to Mr. Fregelius did not 
 grow fewer. Indeed, his wife noticed that, if anything, 
 they increased in number, which, as the organ was now 
 finished down to the last allegorical carvings of its case, 
 seemed remarkable and unnecessary. Of course, the fact 
 was that on these occasions the conversation invariably 
 centred on one subject, and that subject, Stella. Con- 
 sidered in certain aspects, it must have been a piteous 
 thing to see and hear these two men, each of them 
 bereaved of one who to them above all others had been 
 the nearest and dearest, trying to assuage their grief by 
 mutual consolations. Morris had never told Mr. Frege- 
 lius all the depth of his attachment to his daughter, at 
 least, not in actual, unmistakable words, although, as has 
 been said, from the first her father took it for granted, and
 
 286 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Morris, tacitly at any rate, had accepted the conclusion. 
 Indeed, very soon he found that no other subject had 
 such charms for his guest ; that of Stella he might talk 
 for ever without the least fear that Morris would be weary. 
 
 So the poor, childless, unfriended old man put aside 
 the reserve and timidity which clothed him like a garment, 
 and talked on into those sympathetic ears, knowing well, 
 however for the freemasonry of their common love 
 taught it to him that in the presence of a third person 
 her name, no allusion to her, even, must pass his lips. 
 In short, these conversations grew at length into a kind 
 of stance or solemn rite ; a joint offering to the dead of 
 the best that they had to give, their tenderest thoughts 
 and memories, made in solemn secrecy and with uplifted 
 hearts and minds. 
 
 Mr. Fregelius was an historian, and possessed some 
 interesting records, upon which it was his habit to des- 
 cant. Amongst other things he instructed Morris in 
 the annals of Stella's ancestry upon both sides, which, 
 as it happened, could be traced back for many genera- 
 tions. In these discourses it grew plain to his listener 
 whence had sprung certain of her qualities, such as her 
 fearless attitude towards death, and her tendency towards 
 mysticism. Here in these musty chronicles, far back in 
 the times when those of whom they kept record were 
 half, if not wholly, heathen, these same qualities could be 
 discovered among her forbears. 
 
 Indeed, there was one woman of whom the saga told, 
 a certain ancestress named Ssevuna, whereof it is written 
 " that she was of all women the very fairest, and that 
 she drew the hearts of men with her wonderful eyes as 
 the moon draws mists from a marsh," who, in some ways,
 
 MORRIS, THE MARRIED MAN 287 
 
 might have been Stella herself, Stella unchristianized 
 and savage. 
 
 This Saevuna's husband rebelled against the king of 
 his country, and, being captured, was doomed to a shame- 
 ful death by hanging as a traitor. Thereon, under pre- 
 tence of bidding him farewell, she administered poison 
 to him, partaking of the same herself ; " and," continues 
 the saga, " they both of them, until their pains overcame 
 them, died singing a certain ancient song which had 
 descended in the family of one of them, and is called the 
 Song of the Over-Lord, or the Offering to Death. This 
 song, while strength and voice remain to them, it is the 
 duty of this family to say or sing, or so they hold it, in 
 the hour of their death. But if they sing it, except by 
 way of learning its words and music from their mothers, 
 and escape death, it will not be for very long, seeing 
 that when once the offering is laid upon his altar, the 
 Over-Lord considers it his own, and, after the fashion of 
 gods and men, takes it as soon as he can. So sweet and 
 strange was the singing of this Saevuna until she choked 
 that the king and his nobles came out to hear it, and all 
 men thought it a great marvel that a woman should sing 
 thus in the very pains of death. Moreover, they declared, 
 many of them, that while the song went on they could 
 think of nothing else, and that strange and wonderful 
 visions passed before their eyes. But of this nobody 
 can know the truth for certain, as the woman and her 
 husband died long ago." 
 
 " You see," said Mr. Fregelius, when he had finished 
 translating the passage aloud, "it is not wonderful that 
 I thought it unlucky when I heard that you had found 
 Stella singing this same song upon the ship, much as
 
 288 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 centuries ago her ancestress, Saevuna, sang it while she 
 and her husband died." 
 
 "At any rate, the omen fulfilled itself," answered 
 Morris, with a sigh, " and she, too, died with the song 
 upon her lips, though I do not think that it had anything 
 to do with these things, which were fated to befall." 
 
 "Well," said the clergyman, "the fate is fulfilled now, 
 and the song will never be sung again. She was the last 
 of her race, and it was a law among them that neither 
 words nor music should ever be written down." 
 
 When such old tales and legends were exhausted, and, 
 outside the immediate object of their search, some of 
 them were of great interest to a man who, like Morris, 
 had knowledge of Norse literature, and was delighted 
 to discover in Mr. Fregelius a scholar acquainted with 
 the original tongues in which they were written, these 
 companions fell back upon other matters. But all of 
 them had to do with Stella. One night the clergyman 
 read some letters written by her as a child from Den- 
 mark. On another he produced certain dolls which she 
 had dressed at the same period of her life in the costume 
 of the peasants of that country. On a third he repeated 
 a piece of rather indifferent poetry composed by her 
 when she was a girl of sixteen. Its strange title was, 
 "The Resurrection of Dead Roses." It told how in 
 its author's fancy the flowers which were cut and cast 
 away on earth bloomed again in heaven, never to wither 
 more ; a pretty allegory, but treated in a childish fashion. 
 
 Thus, then, from time to time, as occasion offered, did 
 this strange pair celebrate the rites they thought so 
 harmless, and upon the altar of memory make offerings 
 to their dead.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 STELLA'S DIARY 
 
 IT seems to be a law of life that nothing in nature 
 can stand completely still and changeless. All must 
 vary, must progress or retrograde; the very rocks in 
 the bowels of the earth undergo organic alterations, 
 while the eternal hills that cover them increase or are 
 worn away. Much more is this obvious in the case of 
 ephemeral man, of his thoughts, his works, and every- 
 thing wherewith he has to do, he who within the period 
 of a few short years is doomed to appear, wax, wane, 
 and vanish. 
 
 Even the conversations of Mr. Fregelius and Morris 
 were subject to the working of this universal rule ; and 
 in obedience to it must travel towards a climax, either 
 of fruition, however unexpected, or, their purpose 
 served, whatever it may have been, to decay and death, 
 for lack of food upon which to live and flourish. The 
 tiniest groups of impulses or incidents have their goal 
 as sure and as appointed as that of the cluster of vast 
 globes which form a constellation. Between them the 
 principal distinction seems to be one of size, and at 
 present we are not in a position to say which may be 
 the most important, the issue of the smallest of unre- 
 corded causes, or of the travailing of the great worlds. 
 The destiny of a single human soul shaped or directed 
 
 289
 
 2QO STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 by the one, for aught we know, may be of more weight 
 and value than that of a multitude of hoary universes 
 naked of life and spirit. Or perhaps to the Eye that 
 sees and judges the difference is nothing. 
 
 Thus even these semi-secret interviews when two men 
 met to talk over the details of a lost life with which, 
 however profoundly it may have influenced them in the 
 past, they appeared, so far as this world is concerned, to 
 have nothing more to do, were destined to affect the 
 future of one of them in a fashion that could scarcely 
 have been foreseen. This became apparent, or put it- 
 self in the way of becoming apparent, when on a cer- 
 tain evening Morris found Mr. Fregelius seated in the 
 rectory dining-room, and by his side a little pile of manu- 
 script volumes bound in shabby cloth. 
 
 " What are those ? " asked Morris. " Her translation 
 of the Saga of the Cave Outlaws ? " 
 
 " No, Morris," answered Mr. Fregelius he called 
 him Morris when they were alone " of course not. 
 Don't you remember that they were bound in red ? " he 
 added reproachfully, " and that we did them up to send 
 to the publisher last week ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, of course ; he wrote to me yesterday to 
 say that he would be glad to bring out the book " 
 Morris did not add, "at my risk." " But what are 
 they ? " 
 
 "They are," replied Mr. Fregelius, "her journals, 
 which she appears to have kept ever since she was 
 fourteen years of age. You remember she was going to 
 London on the day that she was drowned that Christ- 
 mas Day ? Well, before she went out to the old church 
 she packed her belongings in two boxes, and there those
 
 STELLAS DIARY 29 1 
 
 boxes have lain for three years and more, because I 
 could never find the heart to meddle with them. But, 
 a few nights ago I wasn't able to sleep I rest very 
 badly now so I went and undid them, lifting out all 
 the things which her hands put there. At the bottom 
 of one of the boxes I found these volumes, except the 
 last of them, in which she was writing till the day of her 
 death. That was at the top. I was aware that she 
 kept a diary, for I have seen her making the entries ; but 
 of its contents I knew nothing. In fact, until last night 
 I had forgotten its existence." 
 
 " Have you read it now ? " asked Morris. 
 
 " I have looked into it ; it seems to be a history of her 
 thoughts and theories. Facts are very briefly noted. 
 It occurred to me that you might like to read it. Why 
 not?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, very much," answered Morris eagerly. 
 " That is, if you think she will not mind. You see, it 
 is private." 
 
 Mr. Fregelius took no notice of the tense of which 
 Morris made use, for the reason that it seemed natural 
 to him that he should employ it. Their strange habit 
 was to talk of Stella, not as we speak of one dead, but 
 as a living individuality with whom they chanced for a 
 while to be unable to communicate. 
 
 " I do not think that she will mind," he answered 
 slowly ; " quite the reverse, indeed. It is a record of a 
 phase and period of her existence which, I believe, she 
 might wish those who are interested in her to study, 
 especially as she had no secrets that she could desire to 
 conceal. From first to last I believe her life to have 
 been as clear as the sky, and as pure as running water."
 
 292 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 "Very well," answered Morris, "if I come across any 
 passage that I think I ought not to read, I will skip." 
 
 " I can find nothing of the sort, or I would not give it 
 to you," said Mr. Fregelius. " But, of course, I have 
 not read the volumes through as yet. There has been 
 no time for that. I have sampled them here and there, 
 that is all." 
 
 That night Morris took those shabby note-books home 
 with him. Mary, who according to her custom went 
 to bed early, being by this time fast asleep, he retired to 
 his laboratory in the old chapel, where it was his habit to 
 sit, especially when, as at the present time, his father 
 was away from home. Here, without wasting a moment, 
 he began his study of them. 
 
 It was with very strange sensations, such as he had 
 never before experienced, that he opened the first of 
 the volumes, written some thirteen years earlier, that 
 is, about ten years before Stella's death. Their actual 
 acquaintance had been but brief. Now he was about to 
 complete his knowledge of her, to learn many things 
 which he had found no time, or had forgotten to inquire 
 into, to discover the explanation of various phases of 
 her character hitherto but half revealed; perhaps to trace 
 to its source the energy of that real, but mystic, faith 
 with which it was informed. This diary that had come 
 or perhaps been sent to him in so unexpected a 
 fashion, was the key whereby he hoped to open the 
 most hidden chambers of the heart of the woman whom 
 he loved, and who loved him with all her strength and 
 soul. 
 
 Little wonder, then, that he trembled upon the thresh-
 
 STELLA'S DIARY 293 
 
 old of such a search. He was like the neophyte of 
 some veiled religion, who, after long years of arduous 
 labour and painful preparation, is at length conducted 
 to the doors of its holy of holies, and left to enter there 
 alone. What will he find beyond them ? The secret he 
 longed to learn, the seal and confirmation of his hard- 
 won faith, or empty, baulking nothingness ? Would the 
 goddess herself, the unveiled Isis, wait to bless her votary 
 within those doors ? Or would that hall be tenanted but 
 by a painted and bedizened idol, a thing fine with ivory 
 and gold, but dead and soulless ? 
 
 Might it not be better indeed to turn back while there 
 was yet time, to be content to dwell on in the wide 
 outer courts of the imagination, where faith is always 
 possible, rather than to hazard all ? No ; it would, Morris 
 felt, be best to learn the whole truth, especially as he 
 was sure that it could not prove other than satisfying 
 and beautiful. Blind must he have been indeed, and 
 utterly without intuition if with every veil that was with- 
 drawn from it the soul of Stella did not shine more bright. 
 
 Another question remained. Was it well that he 
 should read these diaries ? Was not his mind already 
 full enough of Stella ? If once he began to read, might 
 it not be overladen ? In short, Mary had dealt well by 
 him ; when those books were open in his hand, would he 
 be dealing well by Mary? Answers excellent answers 
 to these queries sprang up in his mind by dozens. 
 
 Stella was dead. " But you are sworn to her in death," 
 commented the voice of Conscience. " Would you rob 
 the living of your allegiance before the time ? " 
 
 There was no possible harm in reading the records of 
 the life and thoughts of a friend, or even of a love de-
 
 294 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 parted. "Yet," suggested the voice of Conscience, 
 " are you so sure that this life is departed ? Have you 
 not at whiles felt its presence, that mysterious presence 
 of the dead, so sweet, so heavy, and so unmistakable, with 
 which at some time or other in their lives many have 
 made acquaintance ? Will not the study of this life 
 cause that life to draw near? the absorption of those 
 thoughts bring about the visits of other and greater 
 thoughts, whereof they may have been, as it were, the 
 seed ? " 
 
 Anyone who knew its author would be interested to 
 read this human document, the product of an intelli- 
 gence singularly bright and clear; of a vision whose 
 point of outlook was one of the highest and most spirit- 
 ual peaks in the range of our human imaginings. " Quite 
 so," agreed the voice of Conscience. " For instance, 
 Mary would be delighted. Why not begin with her? 
 In fact, why not pursue these pages together it would 
 lead to some most interesting arguments ? Why pore 
 over them in this selfish manner all alone and at the 
 dead of night when no one can possibly disturb you, or, 
 since you have blocked the hagioscope, even see you ? 
 And why does the door of that safe stand open ? Be- 
 cause of the risk of fire if anyone should chance to 
 come in with a candle, I suppose. No, of course it 
 would not be right to leave such books about ; espe- 
 cially as they do not belong to you." 
 
 Then enraged, or at least seriously irritated, by these 
 impertinent comments of his inner self upon himself, 
 Morris bade Conscience to be gone to its own place. 
 Next, after contemplating it for a while as Eve might 
 have contemplated the apple, unmindful of a certain
 
 STELLAS DIARY 29$ 
 
 petition in the Lord's Prayer, he took up the volume 
 marked I, and began to read the well-remembered hand- 
 writing with its quaint mediaeval-looking contractions. 
 Even at the age when its author had opened her diary, 
 he noted that this writing was so tiny and neat that 
 many of the pages might have been taken from a monk- 
 ish missal. Also there were few corrections ; what she 
 set down was already determined in her mind. 
 
 From that time forward Morris sat up later even than 
 usual, nor did he waste those precious solitary hours. 
 But the diary covered ten full years of a woman's life, 
 during all of which time certainly never a week passed 
 without her making entries in it, some of them of con- 
 siderable length. Thus it came about for he skipped 
 no word that a full month had gone by before Morris 
 closed the last volume and slipped it away into its hiding- 
 place in the safe. 
 
 As Mr. Fregelius had said, the history was a history of 
 thoughts and theories, rather than of facts, but notwith- 
 standing this, perhaps on account of it, indeed, it was 
 certainly a work which would have struck the severest 
 and least interested critic as very remarkable. The pre- 
 vailing note was that of vividness. What the writer 
 had felt, what she had imagined, what she had desired, 
 was all set out, frequently in but few words, with such 
 crystal clearness, such incisive point, that it came home 
 to the reader's thought as a flash of sudden light might 
 come home to his eye. In a pre-eminent degree Stella 
 possessed the gift of expression. Even her most ab- 
 struse self-communings and speculations were portrayed 
 so sharply that their meaning could not possibly be 
 mistaken. This it was that gave the book much of its
 
 296 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 value. Her thoughts were not vague, she could define 
 them in her own consciousness, and, what is more rare, 
 on paper. 
 
 So much for the form of the journal, its matter is not 
 so easy to describe. At first, as might be expected from 
 her years, it was somewhat childish in character, but 
 not on that account the less sweet and fragrant of a 
 child's pure heart. Here with stern accuracy were 
 recorded her little faults of omission and commission 
 how she had answered crossly ; how she had not done 
 her duty; varied occasionally with short poems, some 
 copied, some of her own composition, and prayers also 
 of her making, one or two of them very touching and 
 beautiful. From time to time, too indeed this habit 
 clung to her to the last she introduced into her diary 
 descriptions of scenery, generally short and detached, 
 but set there evidently because she wished to preserve a 
 sketch in words of some sight that had moved her mind. 
 
 Here is a brief example describing a scene in Norway, 
 where she was visiting, as it appeared to her upon some 
 evening in late autumn : " This afternoon I went out to 
 gather cranberries on the edge of the fir-belt below the 
 Stead. Beneath me stretched the great moss-swamp, so 
 wide that I could not discern its borders, and grey as 
 the sea in winter. The wind blew and in the west the 
 sun was setting, a big, red sun which glowed like the 
 copper-covered cathedral dome that we saw last week. 
 All about in the moss stood pools of black, stagnant 
 water with little straggling bushes growing round them. 
 Under the clouds they were ink, but in the path of the 
 red light, there they were blood. A man with a large 
 basket on his back and a long staff in his hand, was
 
 STELLAS DIARY 297 
 
 walking across the moss from west to east. The wind 
 tossed his cloak and bent his grey beard as he threaded 
 his way among the pools. The red light fell upon him 
 also, and he looked as though he were on fire. Before 
 him, gathering thicker as the sun sank, were shadows 
 and blackness. He seemed to walk into the blackness 
 like a man wading into the sea. It swallowed him up ; 
 he must have felt very lonely with no one near him in 
 that immense grey place. Now he was all gone, except 
 his head that wore a halo of the red light. He looked 
 like a saint struggling across the world into the Black 
 Gates. For a minute he stood still, as though he were 
 frightened. Then a sudden gust seemed to sweep him 
 on again, right into the Gates, and I lost sight of that 
 man whom I shall never see any more. I wonder 
 whether he was a saint or a sinner, and what he will 
 find beyond the Gates. A curlew flew past me, borne 
 out of the darkness, and its cry made me feel sad and 
 shiver. It might have been the man's soul which wished 
 to look upon the light again. Then the sun sank, and 
 there was no light, only the wind moaning, and far, far 
 away the sad cry of the curlew." 
 
 This description was simple and unpolished as it was 
 short. Yet it impressed the mind of Morris, and its 
 curious allegorical note appealed to his imagination. 
 The grey moss broken by stagnant pools, lonesome and 
 primeval ; the dreary pipe of the wildfowl, the red and 
 angry sun fronting the gloom of advancing, oblivious 
 night; the solitary traveller, wind-buffeted, way-worn, 
 aged, heavy-laden, fulfilling the last stage of his ap- 
 pointed journey to a realm of sleep and shadow. All 
 these sprang into vision as he read, till the landscape,
 
 298 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 concentrated, and expressing itself in its tiny central 
 point of human interest, grew more real in memory and 
 meaning than many with which he was himself familiar. 
 
 Yet that description was written by an untrained girl 
 not yet seventeen years of age. But with such from first 
 to last, and this was by no means the best of them, he 
 found her pages studded. 
 
 Then, jotted down from day to day, came the account 
 of the illness and death of her twin sister, Gudrun, a 
 pitiful tale to read. Hopes, prayers, agonies of despair, 
 all were here recorded ; the last scene also was set out 
 with a plain and noble dignity, written by the bed of 
 death in the presence of death. Now under the hand 
 of suffering the child had become a woman, and, as 
 was fitting, her full soul found relief in deeper notes. 
 "Good-bye, Gudrun," she ended, "my heart is broken; 
 but I will mourn for you no more. God has called you, 
 and we give you back to God. Wait for me, my sister, 
 for I am coming also, and I will not linger. I will 
 walk quickly." 
 
 It was from this sad day of her only sister's death 
 that the first real developments of the mystical side of 
 Stella's character must be dated. The sudden vanishing 
 of Gudrun in the bloom of youth and beauty brought 
 home to her the lesson which all must learn, in such 
 a fashion that henceforth her whole soul was tinged to 
 its sad hue. 
 
 " Now I understand it all," she wrote after returning 
 from the funeral. "We do not live to die, we die to 
 live. As a grain of sand to the whole shore, as a drop 
 of water to the whole sea, so is what we call our life to 
 the real life. Of course one has always been taught
 
 STELLAS DIARY 299 
 
 that in church, but I never really comprehended it be- 
 fore. Henceforth this thought shall be a part of me ! 
 Every morning when I wake I will remember that I am 
 one night nearer to the great dawn, every night when I 
 lie down to sleep I will thank God that another day of 
 waiting has ended with the sunset. Yes, and I will try 
 to live so that after my last sunset I may meet the end 
 as did Gudrun ; without a single doubt or fear, for if 
 I have nothing to reproach myself with, why should I 
 be reproached ? If I have longed for light and lived 
 towards the light, however imperfect I may be, why 
 should I be allotted to the darkness ? " 
 
 Almost on the next page appeared a prayer " For the 
 welfare and greater glory " of her who was dead, and 
 for the mourner who was left alive, with this quaint 
 note appended : " My father would not approve of this, 
 as it is against the rubric, but all the same I mean to go 
 on praying for the dead. Why should I not ? If my 
 poor petitions cannot help them who are above the need 
 of help, at least they may show that they are not for- 
 gotten. Oh ! that must be the bitter part ; to live on 
 full of love and memory and watch forgetfulness creep- 
 ing into the hearts of the loved and the remembered. 
 The priests never thought of it, but there lies the real 
 purgatory." 
 
 The diary showed it to be a little more than a year 
 after this that spiritual doubts began to possess the soul 
 of Stella. After all, was she not mistaken ? Was there 
 any world beyond the physical ? Were we not mere ac- 
 cidents, born of the will or the chance of the flesh, and 
 shaped by the pressure of centuries of circumstance ? 
 Were not all religions different forms of a gigantic fraud
 
 300 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 played by his own imagination upon blind, believing 
 man ? And so on to the end of the long list of those 
 questions that are as old as thought. 
 
 " I look," she wrote under the influence of this mood, 
 "but everywhere is blackness; blackness without a single 
 star. I cry aloud, but the only answer is the echo of my 
 own voice beating back upon me from the deaf heavens. 
 I pray for faith, yet faith fades and leaves me. I ask 
 for signs, and there is no sign. The argument ? So far 
 as I have read and heard, it seems the other way. And 
 yet I do not believe their proofs. I do not believe that 
 so many generations of good men would have fed full 
 upon a husk of lies and have lain down to sleep at 
 last as though satisfied with meat. My heart rises at the 
 thought. I am immortal. I know that I am immortal. 
 I am a spirit. In days to come, unchained by matter, 
 time, or space, I shall stand before the throne of the 
 Father of all spirits, receiving of His wisdom and ful- 
 filling His commandments. Yet, O God, help Thou my 
 unbelief. O God, draw and deliver me from this abyss." 
 
 From this time forward here and there in the diary 
 were to be found passages, or rather sentences, that 
 Morris did not understand. They alluded to some 
 secret and persistent effort which the writer had been 
 making, and after one of them came these words, " I 
 have failed again, but she was near me ; I am sure that 
 she was very near me." 
 
 Then at last came this entry, which, as the writing 
 showed, was written with a shaking hand. " I have 
 seen her beyond the possibility of doubt. She appeared, 
 and was with me quite a while ; and, oh ! the rapture \ 
 It has left me weak and faint after all that long, long
 
 STELLAS DIARY 301 
 
 preparation. It is of the casting forth of spirits that it 
 is said, ' This kind goeth not out but by prayer and 
 fasting,' but it is true also of the drawing of them 
 down. To see a spirit one must grow akin to spirits, 
 which is not good for us who are still in the flesh. I 
 am satisfied. I have seen, and I know. Now I shall 
 call her back no more lest the thing should get the 
 mastery of me, and I become unfitted for my work on 
 earth. This morning I could scarcely hold the bow 
 of the violin, and its sweetest notes sounded harsh to 
 me ; I heard discords among their harmonies. Also I 
 had no voice to sing, and after all the money and time 
 that have been spent upon them, I must keep up my 
 playing and singing, since, perhaps, in the future if my 
 father's health should fail, as it often threatens to do, 
 they may be our only means of livelihood. No, I shall 
 try no more ; I will stop while there is yet time, while I 
 am still my own mistress and have the strength to deny 
 myself this awful joy. But I have seen ! I have seen, 
 and I am thankful, who shall never doubt again. Yet 
 the world, and those who tread it, can never more be 
 quite the same to me, and that is not wholesome. This 
 is the price which must be paid for vision of that which 
 we were not meant to touch, to taste, to handle." 
 
 After this, for some years until it was decided, 
 indeed, that they should move to Monksland there was 
 little of startling interest in the diary. It recorded descrip- 
 tions of the wild moorland scenery, of birds, and ferns, 
 and flowers. Also there were sketches of the peasantry 
 and of the gentlefolk with whom the writer came in 
 contact; very shrewd and clever, some of them, but 
 with this peculiarity that they were absolutely free
 
 302 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 from unkindness of thought or words, though some- 
 times their author allowed herself the license of a miti- 
 gated satire. Such things, with notes of domestic and 
 parish matters, and of the progress made in her arduous 
 and continual study of vocal and instrumental music, 
 made up the sum of these years of the diary. Then 
 at length, at the beginning of the last volume, came this 
 entry : 
 
 "The unexpected has happened, somebody has 
 actually been found in whose eyes this cure of souls 
 is desirable namely, a certain Mr. Tomley, the rector 
 of a village called Monksland, upon the East Coast of 
 England. I will sum up the history of the thing. For 
 some years I have been getting tired of this place, al- 
 though, in a way, I love it too. It is so lonely here, and 
 I confess my weakness playing and singing as I do 
 now, I should like, occasionally, to have a better audience 
 than a few old, half-deaf clergymen, their preoccupied 
 and commonplace wives, some yeomen farmers, and a 
 curate or two. 
 
 " It was last year, though I find that I didn't put it 
 down at the time, that at the concert in aid of the re- 
 building of Pankf ord church I played Tartini's ' II Trillo 
 del Diavolo,' to me one of the weirdest and most wonderful 
 bits of violin music in the world. I know that I was al- 
 most crying when I finished it. But next day I saw in the 
 report in the local paper, written by 'Our Musical Man,' 
 that ' Miss Fregelius then relieved the proceedings with 
 a comic interlude on the violin, which was much ap- 
 preciated by the audience.' It was that, I confess it 
 yes, the idiotic remark of ' Our Musical Man,' which 
 made me determine if it was in any way possible that I
 
 STELLAS DIARY 303 
 
 would shake the dust of this village off my feet. Then, 
 so far as my father is concerned, the stipend is wretched 
 and decreasing. Also he has never really got on here ; 
 he is too shy, too reserved, perhaps, in a way, too well read 
 and educated, for these rough-and-ready people. Even 
 his foreign name goes against him. The curates about 
 here call him ' Frigid Fregelius.' It is the local idea 
 of a joke. 
 
 " So I persuaded him to advertise for an exchange, 
 although he said it was a mere waste of money, as 
 nobody in his senses would look at this parish. Then 
 came the wonderful thing. After the very first adver- 
 tisement yes, the very first arrived a letter from 
 a Mr. Tomley, rector of Monksland, where the stipend 
 is ;iooa year better than this, saying that he would 
 wish to inquire into the matter. He has inquired, he 
 has been, a pompous old gentleman with a slow voice 
 and a single lock of white hair above his forehead ; he 
 says that it is satisfactory, and that, subject to the 
 consent of the bishop, etc., he thinks that he will be 
 glad to effect the exchange. Afterwards I found him 
 in front of the house staring at the moorland behind, 
 the sea in front, and the church in the middle, and look- 
 ing very wretched. I asked him why he wanted to do 
 it the words popped out of my mouth, I couldn't help 
 them ; it was all so odd. 
 
 " Then I found out the reason. Mr. Tomley has a wife 
 who is, or thinks she is I am not sure which an in- 
 valid, and who, I gather, speaks to Mr. Tomley with no 
 uncertain sound. Mr. Tomley's wife was the niece of 
 a long-departed rector who was inducted in 1815, and 
 reigned here for forty-five years. He was rich, a bach-
 
 304 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 elor, and rebuilt the church. (Is it not all written in 
 the fly-leaf of the last register ? ) Mrs. Tomley inherited 
 her uncle's landed property in this neighbourhood, and 
 says that she is only well in the air of Northumberland. 
 So Mr. Tomley has to come up here, which he doesn't at 
 all like, although I gather that he is glad to escape from 
 his present squire, who seems to be a distinguished but 
 arbitrary old gentleman, an ex-Colonel of the Guards ; 
 rather quarrelsome, too, with a habit of making fun of 
 Mrs. Tomley. There's the explanation. 
 
 " So just because of the silly criticism of ' Our Musical 
 Man ' we are going to move several hundred miles. 
 But is that really the cause ? Are these things done of 
 our own desire, or do we do them because we must, as 
 our forefathers believed ? Beneath our shouts and chat- 
 tering they always heard the slow thunder of the waves 
 of Fate. Through the flare of our straw fires and the 
 dust of our hurrying feet, they could always see the 
 shadow of his black banners and the sheen of his ad- 
 vancing spears, and for them every wayside sign-post 
 was painted with his finger. 
 
 "I think like that, too, perhaps because I am all, 
 nearly all, Norse, and we do not shake off the strong and 
 ancient shackle of our blood in the space of a few gen- 
 erations of Christian freedom and enlightenment. Yes, 
 I see the finger of Fate upon this sign-post of an adver- 
 tisement in a Church paper. His flag is represented to 
 me by Mr. Tomley's white and cherished lock. Assur- 
 edly our migration is decreed of the Norns, therefore I 
 accept it without question ; but I should like to know 
 what kind of a web of destiny they are weaving for us 
 yonder in the place called Monksland."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE END OF STELLA'S DIARY 
 
 A MONTH or two later in the diary came the ac- 
 count of the shipwreck of the Trondhjem and of the 
 writer's rescue from imminent death. " My first great 
 adventure," the pages were headed. They told how her 
 father, with whom ready-money was a scarce commodity, 
 and who had a passion for small and uncomfortable 
 economies, suddenly determined to save two or three 
 pounds by taking a passage in a Norwegian tramp 
 steamboat named the Trondhjem. This vessel, laden 
 with a miscellaneous cargo, had put in at a Northum- 
 brian port, and carried freight consisting of ready-made 
 windows, door-frames, and other wooden house-fittings 
 suited to the requirements of the builders of seaside 
 villas, to be delivered at the rising watering-place of 
 Northwold, upon her way to London. Then followed a 
 description of the voyage, the dirt of the ship, the sur- 
 passing nastiness of the food, and the roughness of the 
 crew, whose sailor-like qualities inspired the writer with 
 no confidence. 
 
 Next, the diary which now had been written up by 
 Stella in the Abbey where Morris read it, went on to 
 tell of how she had gone to her berth one night in the 
 cabin next to that occupied by her father, and being 
 tired by a long day in the strong sea air had fallen 
 
 305
 
 306 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 instantly into a heavy sleep, which was disturbed by a 
 nightmare-like dream of shock and noise. This im- 
 agined pandemonium, it said, was followed by a great 
 quiet, in the midst of which she awoke to miss the 
 sound of the thumping screw and of the captain shouting 
 his orders from the bridge. 
 
 For a while, the writing told, she lay still, till a sense 
 that something was wrong awoke her thoroughly, when 
 she lit the candle which she kept by her berth, and, ris- 
 ing, peeped out into the saloon to see that water was 
 washing along its floor. Presently she made another 
 discovery, that she was alone, utterly alone, even her 
 father's cabin being untenanted. 
 
 The rest need not be repeated in detail. Throwing 
 on some garments, and a red cloak of North-country 
 frieze, she made her way to the deck to find that the 
 ship was abandoned by every living soul, including her 
 own father; why, or under what circumstances, re- 
 mained a mystery. She retreated into the captain's 
 cabin, which was on deck, being afraid to go below again 
 in the darkness, and sheltered there until the light 
 came. Then she went out, and through the dim, mist- 
 laden dawn crept forward to the forecastle, and staring 
 over the side discovered that the prow of the ship was 
 fixed upon a rock, while her stern and waist, which 
 floated clear, heaved and rolled with every sea. As she 
 stood thus the vessel slipped back along the reef three 
 feet or more, throwing her to the deck, and thrilling her 
 from head to foot with the most sickening sensation she 
 had ever experienced. Then the Trondhjem caught 
 and hung again, but Stella, so she wrote, knew that 
 the end must be near, as the ship would lift off with
 
 THE END OF STELLAS DIARY 307 
 
 the full tide and founder; and for the first time felt 
 afraid. 
 
 "I did not fear what might come after death," went 
 on the diary, " but I did fear the act of death. I was 
 so lonely, and the dim waters looked so cold ; the brown 
 shoulders of the rocks which showed now and again 
 through the surges, so cruel. To be dashed by those 
 cold waters upon those iron rocks till the life was slowly 
 ground out of my body ! And my father the thought 
 of him tormented my mind. Was he dead, or had he 
 deserted me ? The last seemed quite impossible, for it 
 would have supposed him a coward, and I was sure 
 that he would die rather than leave me ; therefore, as I 
 feared, the first must be true. I was afraid, and I was 
 wretched, and I said my prayers and cried a little, while 
 the cold struck me through the red cloak, and the damp 
 mist made me shiver. 
 
 " Then suddenly I remembered that it had not been 
 the custom of my ancestors and countrywomen of the 
 old time to die weeping, and with the thought some of 
 my courage came back. I rose from the deck and stood 
 upon the prow of the ship, supporting myself by a rope, 
 as many a dead woman of my race has done before me 
 in the hour of battle and shipwreck. As I stood thus, 
 believing that I was about to die, there floated into my 
 mind a memory of the old Norse song that my mother 
 had taught me as she learned it from her mother. It 
 is called the ' Song of the Overlord,' and for genera- 
 tions without count on their death-beds has been sung, 
 or if they were too weak to sing, whispered, by the 
 women of my family. Even my mother murmured it 
 upon the day she died, although to all appearances she
 
 308 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 had become an Englishwoman; and the first line of 
 
 it, 
 
 " < Hail to thee, Sky King ! Hail to thee, Earth King ! ' 
 
 were the last words that the gentlest creature whom I 
 ever knew, my sister Gudrun, muttered before she became 
 unconscious. This song it has always been held un- 
 lucky to sing except upon the actual approach of death, 
 since otherwise, so goes the old saying, 'it draws 
 the arrow whose flight was wide,' and Death, being 
 invoked, comes soon. Still, for me I believed there 
 was no escape, for I was quite sure from her movements 
 that the steamer would soon come off the rocks, and I had 
 made my confession and said my prayers. So I began 
 to sing, and sang my loudest, pleasing myself with the 
 empty, foolish thought that in some such circumstance 
 as this many a Danish sea-king's daughter had sung 
 that song before me. 
 
 " Then, as I sang, a wind began to blow, and suddenly 
 the mist was driven before it like puffs of smoke, and 
 in the east behind me rose the red ball of the sun. Its 
 light fell upon the rocks and upon the waters beyond 
 them, and there to my amazement, appearing and dis- 
 appearing upon the ridges and hollows of the swell, I 
 saw a man alone in a sailing-boat, which rode at anchor 
 within thirty yards of me. At first I thought that it 
 must be my father, then the man caught sight of me, 
 and I saw his face as he looked up, for the sun shone 
 upon his dark eyes, and knew that he was a stranger. 
 
 "He lifted his anchor and called to me to come to the 
 companion ladder, and his voice told me that he was a 
 gentleman. I could not meet him as I was, with my 
 hair loose, and bare-footed like some Norse Viking girl.
 
 THE END OF STELLAS DIARY 309 
 
 So I took the risk, for now, although I cannot tell why, 
 I felt sure that no harm would come to him or me, and 
 ran to the cabin, where also was this volume of my diary 
 and my mother's jewels that I did not wish to lose. 
 When at last I was ready after a fashion, I came out 
 with my bag, and there, splashing through the water of 
 the saloon, ran the stranger, shouting angrily to me to 
 be quick, as the ship was lifting off the rock, which 
 made me think how brave it was of him to come aboard 
 to look for me. In an instant he caught me by the 
 hand, and was dragging me up the stairs and down the 
 companion, so that in another minute we were together 
 in the boat, and he had told me that my father was on 
 shore thank God ! though with a broken thigh." 
 
 Then some pages of the diary were taken up with the 
 description of the twenty-four hours which she had 
 spent on the open sea with himself, of their landing, 
 dazed and exhausted, at the Dead Church, and her 
 strange desire to explore it, their arrival at the Abbey, 
 and her meeting with her father. After these came a 
 passage that may be quoted : 
 
 "He is not handsome I call him plain with his 
 projecting brow, large mouth, and untidy brown hair. 
 But notwithstanding his stoop and his thin hands, he 
 looks a fine man, and, when they light up, his eyes are 
 beautiful. It was brave of him, too, very brave, although 
 he thinks nothing of it, to come out alone to look for me 
 like that. I wonder what brought him ? I wonder if 
 anything told his mind that I, a girl whom he had never 
 seen, was really on the ship and in danger ? Perhaps 
 at any rate, he came, and the odd thing is that from the 
 moment I saw him, and especially from the moment I
 
 310 STELLA F REG ELI US 
 
 heard his voice, I felt as though I had known him all my 
 life. Probably he would think me mad if I were to say 
 so ; indeed, I am by no means sure that he does not pay 
 me that compliment already, with some excuse, perhaps, 
 in view of the ' Song of the Overlord ' and all my wild 
 talk. Well, after such a night as I had spent anyone 
 might be excused for talking foolishly. It is the reac- 
 tion from never expecting to talk again at all. The 
 chief advantage of a diary is that one may indulge in 
 the luxury of telling the actual truth. So I will say 
 that I feel as though I had known him always ; always 
 and as though I understood him as one understands 
 a person one has watched for years. What is more, I 
 think that he understands me more than most people 
 do ; not that this is wonderful, seeing how few I know. 
 At any rate, he guesses more or less what I am thinking 
 about, and can see that there is something in ideas which 
 others consider foolish, as perhaps they are. 
 
 " It is very odd that I, who had made sure that I was 
 gone, should be still alive in this pleasant house, and 
 saved from death by this pleasant companion, to find 
 my father, whom I feared was dead, also living. And all 
 this after I had sung the ' Song of the Overlord ! ' So 
 much for its ill-luck. But, all the same, my father was 
 rather upset when he heard that I had been found sing- 
 ing it. He is very superstitious, my dear old father ; that 
 is one of the few Norse characteristics which he has left 
 hi him. I told him that there was no use in being dis- 
 turbed, since, in the end, things must go as they are fated. 
 
 " Mr. Monk is engaged to a Miss Person. He told 
 me that in the boat. I asked him what he was thinking 
 of when we nearly over-set against that dreadful rock,
 
 THE END OF STELLAS DIARY 311 
 
 He answered that he could only think of the song he 
 had heard me singing on the ship, which I considered a 
 great compliment to my voice, quite the nicest I ever 
 had. But he ought to have been thinking about the 
 lady to whom he is engaged, and he understood that I 
 thought so, which I daresay I should not have allowed 
 him to do. However, when people believe that they are 
 going to be drowned they grow confidential, and expose 
 their minds freely. He exposed his when he told me 
 that he thought I was talking egregious nonsense, and 
 I am afraid that I laughed at him. I don't think that 
 he really can love her that is, as engaged people are 
 supposed to love each other. If he did he would not 
 have grown so angry with himself and then turned 
 upon me because the recollection of my old death song 
 had interfered with the reflections which he ought to 
 have offered upon her altar. That is what struck me 
 as odd ; not his neglecting to remember her in a mo- 
 ment of danger, since then we often forget everything 
 except some triviality of the hour. But, of course, this 
 is all nonsense, which I oughtn't to write here even, as 
 most people have their own ways of being fond of 
 each other. Also, it is no affair of mine. 
 
 " I have seen Miss Person's photograph, a large one 
 of her in Court dress, which stands in Mr. Monk's 
 laboratory (such a lovely place, it was an old chapel). 
 She is a beautiful woman ; large and soft and regal- 
 looking, a very woman ; it would be difficult to imagine 
 a better specimen of ' the eternal feminine.' Also, they 
 say, that is, the nurse who is looking after my father 
 says, that she is very rich and devoted to 'Mr. Morris.' 
 So Mr. Morris is a lucky man. I wonder why he didn't
 
 312 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 save her from a shipwreck instead of me. It would 
 have given an appropriate touch of romance to the 
 affair, which is now entirely wasted upon a young per- 
 son, if I may still call myself so, with whom it has no 
 concern. 
 
 " What interests me more than our host's matrimonial 
 engagements, however, are his experiments with aero- 
 phones. That is a wonderful invention if only it can 
 be made to work without fail upon all occasions. I do 
 wish that I could help him there. It would be some re- 
 turn for his great kindness, for it must be a dreadful 
 nuisance to have an old clergyman with a broken leg 
 and his inconvenient daughter suddenly quartered upon 
 you for an unlimited period of time." 
 
 The record of the following weeks was very full, 
 but almost entirely concerned brief mention of other 
 things, such as her father's health excepted with full 
 and accurate notes and descriptions of the aerophone 
 experiments. To Morris reading them it was wonder- 
 ful, especially as Stella had received no training in the 
 science of electricity, that she could have grasped the 
 subject thus thoroughly in so short a time. Evidently 
 she must have had a considerable aptitude for its theory 
 and practice, as might be seen by the study that she 
 gave to the literature which he lent her, including some 
 manuscript volumes of his own notes. Also there were 
 other entries. Thus : 
 
 "To-day Mr. Stephen Layard proposed to me in the 
 Dead Church. I had seen it coming for the last three 
 weeks and wished to avoid it, but he would not take a 
 hint. I am most sorry, as I really think he cares about me 
 for the while which is very kind of him. But it is
 
 THE END OF STELLAS DIARY 313 
 
 out of the question, and I had to say so. Indeed, he 
 repels me. I do not even like being in the same room 
 with him, although no doubt this is very fastidious and 
 wrong of me. I hope that he will get over it soon ; in 
 fact, although he seemed distressed, I am not vain 
 enough to suppose that it will be otherwise. . . . 
 
 " Of course, my father is angry, for reasons which I 
 need not set down. This I expected, but he said some 
 things which I wish he had left unsaid, for they made 
 me answer him as I ought not to have done. Fathers 
 and daughters look at marriage from such different 
 standpoints ; what is excellent in their eyes may be as 
 bad as death, or in some cases worse to the woman who 
 of course must pay the price. . . . 
 
 " I sang and played my best last night, my very, 
 very best; indeed, I don't think I ever did so well be- 
 fore, and perhaps never shall again. He was moved 
 more moved than I meant him to be, and I was moved 
 myself. I suppose that it was the surroundings ; that 
 old chapel how well those monks understood acoustic 
 properties the moonlight, the upset to my nerves this 
 afternoon, my fear that he believed that I had accepted 
 Mr. L. (imagine his believing that ! I thought better of 
 him, and he did believe it) everything put together. 
 
 " While I was singing he told me that he was going 
 away to see Miss Person at Beaulieu, I suppose. 
 When I had finished oh ! how tired I was after the 
 effort was over he asked me straight out if I intended 
 to marry Mr. Layard, and I asked him if he was mad ! 
 Then I put another question, I don't know why ; I never 
 meant to do it, but it came up from my heart whether 
 he had not said that he was going away ? In answer he
 
 314 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 explained that he was thinking of so doing, but had 
 changed his mind. Oh! I was pleased when I heard 
 that. I was never so pleased in my life before. After 
 all, the gift of music is of some use. 
 
 " But why should I have been pleased ? Mr. Monk's 
 comings or goings are nothing to me ; I have no right 
 to interfere with them, even indirectly, or to concern 
 myself about them. Yet I cried when I heard those 
 words, but I suppose it was the music that made me 
 cry; it has that inconvenient effect sometimes. Well, 
 I have no doubt that he will see plenty of Miss Person, 
 and it would have been a great pity to break off the 
 experiments just now." 
 
 One more extract from the very last entry in the 
 series of books. It was written at the Rectory on 
 Christmas Eve, just before Stella started out to meet 
 Morris at the Dead Church : 
 
 "He Colonel M. asked me and I told him the 
 truth straight out. I could not help myself ; it burst 
 from my lips, although the strange thing is that until 
 he put it into my mind with the question, I knew noth- 
 ing. Then of a sudden, in an instant ; in a flash ; I 
 understood and I knew that my whole being belonged 
 to this man, his son Morris. What is love? Once I 
 remember hearing a clever cynic argue that between 
 men and women no such thing exists. He called 
 their affection by other names, and said that for true 
 love to be present the influence of sex must be absent. 
 This he proved by declaring that this marvellous pas- 
 sion of love about which people talk and write is never 
 heard of where its object is old or deformed, or even 
 very ugly, although such accidents of chance and time
 
 THE END OF STELLAS DIARY 315 
 
 are no bar to the true love of let us say the child 
 and the parent, or the friend and the friend. 
 
 " Well, the argument seemed difficult to answer, al- 
 though at the time I knew that it must be wrong, but 
 how could I, who was utterly without experience, talk of 
 such a hard matter ? Now I understand that love ; the real 
 love between a man and a woman, if it be real, embraces 
 all the other sorts of love. More whether the key be 
 physical or spiritual, it unlocks a window in our hearts 
 through which we see a different world from the world 
 that we have known. Also with this new vision come 
 memories and foresights. This man whom I love 
 three months ago I had never seen his face and now 
 I feel as though I had known him not only all my life, 
 but from the beginning of time as though we never 
 could be parted any more. 
 
 "And I talk thus about one who has never said 
 a tender word to me. Why ? Because my thought, 
 is his thought, and my mind his mind. How am I 
 sure of that ? Because it came upon me at the mo- 
 ment when I learned the truth about myself. He and 
 I are one, therefore I learned the truth about him 
 also. 
 
 " I was like Eve when she left the Tree ; knowledge 
 was mine, only I had eaten of the fruit of Life. Yet the 
 taste of it must be bitter in my mouth. What have I 
 done ? I have given my spirit into the keeping of a man 
 who is pledged to another woman, and, as I think, have 
 taken his from her keeping to my own. What then ? 
 Is this other woman, who is so good and kind, to be 
 robbed of all that is left to her in the world ? Am I to 
 take from her him who is almost her husband ? Never.
 
 316 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 If his heart has come to me I cannot help it for the 
 rest, no. So what is left to me ? His spirit and all the 
 future when the flesh is done with ; that is heritage 
 enough. How the philosopher who argued about the 
 love of men and women would laugh and mock if he 
 could see these words. Supposing that he could say, 
 ' Stella Fregelius, I am in a position to offer you a 
 choice. Will you have this man for your husband and 
 live out your natural lives upon the strict stipulation 
 that your relationship ends absolutely and forever with 
 your last breaths ? Or will you let him go to the other 
 woman for their natural lives with the prospect of that 
 heritage which your imagination has fashioned ; that 
 dim eternity of double joy where, hand in hand, twain 
 and yet one, you will fulfil the secret purpose of your 
 destinies ? ' 
 
 " What should I answer then ? 
 
 " Before Heaven I would answer that I would not sell 
 myself to the devil of the flesh and of this present world. 
 What! Barter my birthright of immortality for the 
 mess of pottage of a few brief years of union ? Pay out 
 my high hopes to their last bright coin for this dinner of 
 mingled herbs ? Drain the well of faith dug with so 
 many prayers and labours, that its waters may suffice to 
 nourish a rose planted in the sand, whose blooms must 
 die at the first touch of creeping earthly frost ? 
 
 " The philosopher would say that I was mad; that the 
 linnet in the hand is better than all the birds of paradise 
 which ever flew in fabled tropic seas. 
 
 " I reply that I am content to wait till upon some 
 glorious morning my ship breaks into the silence of 
 those seas, and, watching from her battered bulwarks,
 
 THE END OF STELLAS DIARY 317 
 
 I behold the islands of the Blest and catch the scent of 
 heavenly flowers, and see the jewelled birds, whereof I 
 dream floating from palm to palm. 
 
 " ' But if there are no such isles ? ' he would answer ; 
 ' If, with their magic birds and flowers, they are indeed 
 but the baseless fabric of a dream ? If your ship, amidst 
 the ravings of the storm and the darkness of the tor- 
 tured night, should founder once and for ever in the 
 dark strait which leads to the gateways of that Dawn 
 those gateways through which no traveller returns to 
 lay his fellows' course for the harbours of your perfect 
 sea ; what then ? ' " 
 
 " Then I would say, let me forswear God Who has 
 suffered me to be deceived with false spirits, and sink 
 to depths where no light breaks, where no memories 
 stir, where no hopes torment. Yes, then let me deny 
 Him and die, who am of all women the most miserable. 
 But it is not so, for to me a messenger has come ; at my 
 prayer once the Gates were opened, and now I know 
 quite surely that it was permitted to me to see within 
 them that I might find strength in this the bitter hour 
 of my trial. 
 
 " Yet how can I choke the truth and tread down the 
 human heart within me ? Oh ! the road which my naked 
 feet must tread is full of thorns, and heavy the cross 
 that I must bear. I go now, in a few minutes' time, to 
 bid him farewell. If I can help it I shall never see him 
 again. No, not even after many years, since it is better 
 not. Also, perhaps this is weakness, but I should wish 
 him to remember me wearing such beauty as I have 
 and still young, before time and grief and labour have 
 marked me with their ugly scars. It is the Stella whom
 
 3l8 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 he found singing at the daybreak on the ship which 
 brought her to him, for whom I desire that he should 
 seek in the hour of a different dawn. 
 
 " I go presently, to my marriage, as it were ; a cold and 
 pitiful feast, many would think it these nuptials of life- 
 long renunciation. The philosopher would say, Why 
 renounce ? You have some advantages, some powers, 
 use them. The man loves you, play upon his natural 
 weakness. Help yourself to the thing that chances to 
 be desirable in your eyes. Three years hence who will 
 blame you, who will even remember? His father? 
 Well, he likes you already, and in time a man of the 
 world accepts accomplished facts, especially if things 
 go well, as they will do, for that invention must succeed. 
 No one else ? Yes ; three others. He would remember, 
 however much he loved me, for I should have brought 
 him to do a shameful act. And she would remember, 
 whom I had robbed of her husband, coming into his life 
 after he had promised himself to her. Last of all 
 most of all, perhaps I myself should remember, day 
 by day, and hour by hour, that I was nothing more than 
 one of the family of thieves. 
 
 " No ; I will have none of such philosophy ; at least I, 
 Stella Fregelius, will live and die among the upright. 
 So I go to my cold marriage, such as it is ; so I bend my 
 back to the burden, so I bow my head to the storm ; 
 and throughout it all I thank God for what he has been 
 pleased to send me. I may seem poor, but how rich I 
 am who have been dowered with a love that I know to be 
 eternal as my eternal soul. I go, and my husband shall 
 receive me, not with a lover's kiss and tenderness, but 
 with words few and sad, with greetings that, almost before
 
 THE END OF STELLAS DIARY 319 
 
 their echoes die, must fade into farewells. I wrap no 
 veil about my head, he will set no ring upon my hand, 
 perchance we shall plight no troth. So be it; our hour 
 of harvest is not yet. 
 
 " Yesterday was very sharp and bleak, with scuds of 
 sleet and snow driven by the wind, but as I drove here 
 with my father I saw a man and a woman in the midst 
 of an empty, lifeless field, planting some winter seed. 
 Who, looking at them, who that did not know, could 
 foretell the fruits of their miserable, unhopeful labour? 
 Yet the summer will come and the sweet smell of the 
 flowering beans, and the song of the nesting birds, and 
 the plentiful reward of the year crowned with fatness. 
 It is a symbol of this marriage of mine. To-day we sow 
 the seed ; next, after a space of raving rains and winds, 
 will follow the long, white winter of death, then some 
 dim, sweet spring of awakening, and beyond it the ful- 
 ness of all joy. 
 
 "What is there about me that it would make me 
 ashamed that he should know; this husband to whom I 
 must tell nothing ? I cannot think. No other man has 
 been anything to me. I can remember no great sin. I 
 have worked, making the best of such gifts as I possess. 
 I have tried to do my duty, and I will do it to the end. 
 Surely my heart is whole and my hands are clean. Per- 
 haps it is a sin that I should have learned to love him ; 
 that I should look to a far future where I may be with 
 him. If so, am I to blame, who ask nothing here? Can I 
 conquer destiny who am its child ? Can I read or shape 
 the purpose of my Maker ? 
 
 " And so I go. O God, I pray Thee of Thy mercy, 
 give me strength to bear my temptations and my trials ;
 
 320 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 and to him, also, give every strength and blessing. O 
 Father, I pray Thee of Thy mercy, shorten these the days 
 of my tribulation upon earth. Accept and sanctify this 
 my sacrifice of denial ; grant me pardon here, and here- 
 after through all the abyss of time in Thy knowledge 
 and presence, that perfect peace which I desire with 
 him to whom I am appointed. Amen."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 THE EVIL GATE 
 
 SUCH was the end of the diary of Stella. 
 
 Morris shut the book with something like a sob. 
 Then he rose and began to tramp up and down the 
 length of the long, lonely room, while thoughts, crowded, 
 confused, and overwhelming, pressed in upon his mind. 
 What a woman was this whom he had lost ! Who had 
 known another so pure, so spiritual ? Surely she did 
 not belong to this world, and therefore her last prayer 
 was so quickly answered, therefore Heaven took her. 
 Many reading those final pages might have said with 
 the philosopher she imagined that the shock of love 
 and the sorrow of separation had turned her brain, and 
 that she was mad. For who, so such might argue, 
 would think that person otherwise than mad who dared 
 to translate into action, and on earth to set up as a 
 ruling star, that faith which day by day their lips pro- 
 fessed. 
 
 Yet it would seem after all that this " dreamer and 
 mystic " Stella believed in nothing which our religion, 
 accepted by millions without cavil, does not promise to 
 its votaries. Its revelations and rewards marked the 
 extremest limits of her fantasy; immortality of the 
 personal soul, its foundation stone, was the rock on 
 which she built. A heaven where there is no earthly 
 
 321
 
 322 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 marriage, but where each may consort with the souls 
 most loved and most desired; where all sorrows are 
 forgotten, all tears are wiped away, all purposes made 
 clear, reserved for those who deny themselves, do their 
 duty, and seek forgiveness of their sins this heaven 
 conceived by Stella, is it not vowed to us in the pages 
 of the Gospel? Is it not vowed again and again, some- 
 times with more detail, sometimes with less ; sometimes 
 in open, simple words, sometimes wrapped in the mystic 
 allegory of the visions of St. John ; but everywhere 
 and continually held before us as our crown and great 
 reward ? And the rest, such things as her belief in 
 guardian angels, and that it had been given to her 
 mortal eyes to behold and commune with a beloved ghost, 
 is there not ample warrant for them in those inspired 
 writings ? Were not the dead seen of many in Jerusa- 
 lem on the night of fear, and are we not told of " minis- 
 tering spirits sent forth to do service for the sake of 
 them that shall inherit salvation ? " and of the guardian 
 angels, who look continually upon the Father ? 
 
 Now it all grew clear to Morris. In Stella he beheld an 
 example of the doctrines of Christianity really inspiring 
 the daily life of the believer. If her strong faith animated 
 all those who served under that banner, then in like 
 circumstances they would act as she had acted. They 
 would have no doubts ; their fears would vanish ; their 
 griefs be comforted, and, to a great extent, even the 
 promptings and passions of their mortality would be 
 trodden under foot. With Stella they would be ready 
 to neglect the temporary in their certainty of the eter- 
 nal, and even to welcome death, to them in truth, and 
 not in mere convention, the Gate of Life.
 
 THE EVIL GATE 323 
 
 Many things are promised to those who can achieve 
 faith. Stella achieved it and became endued with some 
 portion of the promise. Spiritual faith, not inherited, 
 nor accepted, but hard-won by personal struggle and 
 experience ; that was the key-note to her character and 
 the explanation of her actions. Yet that faith, when 
 examined into, was nothing exotic ; no combination of 
 mysticism and mummery, but one founded upon the daily 
 creed of the English and its fellow churches, and under- 
 stood and applied to the circumstances of a life which 
 was as brief as it seemed to be unfortunate. This was 
 Morris's discovery, open and obvious enough, and yet at 
 first until he grew accustomed to it, a thing marvellous 
 in his eyes ; one, moreover, in which he found comfort ; 
 since surely that straight but simple path was such as 
 his feet might follow. 
 
 And she loved him. Oh ! how she had loved him. 
 There could be no doubt ; there were her words written 
 in that book, not hastily spoken beneath the pressure 
 of some sudden wind of feeling, but set down in black 
 and white, thought over, reasoned out, and recorded. 
 And then their purport. They were no paean of pas- 
 sion, but the dirge of its denial. They dwelt upon the 
 natural hopes of woman only to put them by. 
 
 " Yet how can I choke the truth and tread down the 
 human heart within me ? Oh ! the road that my naked 
 feet must tread is full of thorns, and heavy the cross 
 that I must bear. ... So I go to my marriage, such 
 as it is, so I bend my back to the burden, so I bow my 
 head to the storm, and through it all I thank God 
 for what He has been pleased to send me. I may 
 seem poor, but how rich I am who have been dowered
 
 324 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 with a love that I know to be eternal as my eternal 
 soul." 
 
 That was her creed, those were the teachings of her 
 philosophy. And this was the woman who had loved 
 him, who died loving him. Her very words came back, 
 spoken but a few seconds before the end : " Remem- 
 ber every word which I have said to you. Remember 
 that we are wed truly wed ; that I go to wait for you, 
 and that even if you do not see me, I will, if I may, be 
 near you always." 
 
 " I go to wait for you. I will be near you always." 
 Here was another inspiration. For three years or more 
 he had been thinking of her as dead. Or rather he 
 had thought of her in that nebulous, undefined fashion 
 in which we consider the dead ; the slumberous people 
 who forget everything, who see nothing ; who, if they 
 exist at all, are like stones upon the beach rolled to and 
 fro blind and senseless, not of their own desire, but by 
 the waves of a fearful fate that itself is driven on with 
 the strength of a secret storm of Will. And this fate 
 some call the Breath of God, and some the working of 
 a soulless force that compels the universe, past, present, 
 and to be. 
 
 But was this view as real as it is common ? If Stella 
 were right, if our religion were right, it must be most 
 wrong. That religion told us that the Master of man- 
 kind descended into Hades to preach to the souls of 
 men. Did he preach to dumb, ocean-driven stones, to 
 frozen forms and fossils who had once been men, or 
 to spirits, changed, but active and existent ? 
 
 Stella, too, had walked in the valley of doubt, by the 
 path which all who think must tread ; it was written
 
 THE EVIL GATE 325 
 
 large in the book of her life. But she had not fainted 
 there ; she had lived through its thunder-rains, its arid 
 blasts of withering dust, its quivering quicksands, and 
 its mirage-like meadows gay with deceitful, poisonous 
 flowers. At last she had reached the mountain slopes 
 of Truth, to travel up them higher ever higher, till 
 she won their topmost peak, where the sun shone 
 undimmed and the pure air blew ; whence the world 
 seemed far away and heaven very near. Yes, and from 
 that heaven she had called down the spirit of her lost 
 sister, and thenceforward was content and sure. 
 
 She had called down the spirit of her sister. Was it 
 not written in the pages which she thought that no eye 
 but hers would see ? 
 
 Well, if such spirits were, hers Stella's must be 
 also. And if they could be made apparent, why 
 should not hers share their qualities? 
 
 Morris paused in his swift walk and trembled : "I 
 will be near you always." For aught he knew she 
 was near him now present, perhaps, in this very 
 room. While she was still in life, what were her aspi- 
 rations ? This was one of them, he remembered, as it 
 fell from her lips : " Still to be with those whom I have 
 loved on earth, although they cannot see me ; to soothe 
 their sorrows, to support their weakness, to lull their 
 fears." And if this were so; if any power were given 
 her to fulfil her will, whom would she sooner visit than 
 himself ? 
 
 Stay ! That was her wish on earth, while she was a 
 woman. But would she still wish it afterwards ? The 
 spirit was not the flesh, the spirit could see and be sure, 
 while the flesh must be content with deductions and haz-
 
 326 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 ardings. If she could see, she would now know him as he 
 was ; every failing, every secret infirmity, every infidel- 
 ity of heart, might be an open writing to her eyes. And 
 then would she not close that book in horror ? 
 
 A great writer has said in effect that no man would 
 dare to affront the ears of his fellows men much worse 
 than himself perhaps with the true details of his hidden 
 history. Knowing all the truth, they would shrink from 
 him. How much more then at such sights and sounds 
 would a pure spirit, washed clean of every taint of earth, 
 fly from his soiled presence, wailing and aghast ? Nay, 
 men are hypocrites, who, in greater or less degree, 
 themselves practice the very sins that shock them, but 
 spirits, knowing all, would forgive all. They are above 
 hypocrisy. If the Lord of spirits can weigh the " dust 
 whereof we are made " and still be merciful, shall his 
 bright messengers trample it in scorn and hate ? Will 
 they not also consider the longings of the heart and its 
 uprightness, and be pitiful towards the failings of the 
 flesh ? Would Stella hate him because he remained 
 as he was made as herself she might once have been ? 
 Because having no wings with which to rule the air he 
 must still tramp onwards through the foetid, clinging 
 mud of earth ? 
 
 Oh ! how he longed to see her, that he might win 
 her faith ; win it beyond all doubt by the evidence of 
 his earthly eyes and senses. " If I die, search and you 
 shall see," she had once said to him, and then added. 
 "No, do not search, but wait." Wait! How could he wait? 
 " At your death I will be with you." Why he might 
 live another fifty years! That book of her recorded 
 thoughts had aroused in him such a desire for the sight,
 
 THE EVIL GATE 327 
 
 or at least the actual knowledge of her continued being, 
 that his blood was aflame as with a madness. And yet 
 how should he search ? 
 
 " Stella," he whispered, " come to me, Stella ! " But 
 no Stella came ; no wings rustled, no breath stirred ; the 
 empty room was as the room had been. Its silence 
 seemed to mock him. Those who slept beneath its 
 marble floor were not more silent. 
 
 Was he mad that he should claim the power to work 
 this miracle to charm the dead back through the Gates 
 of Death as Orpheus charmed Eurydice ? Yet Stella did 
 this thing but how? He turned to the volume and 
 page of her diary which dealt with the drawing down of 
 Gudrun. Yes, here she spoke of continual efforts and 
 of " that long, long preparation " of prayer and fasting 
 also. Here, too, was the whole secret summed up in a 
 dozen words : " To see a spirit one must grow akin to 
 spirits." Well, it could be done, and he would do it. 
 But look further on where she said : " I shall call her 
 back no more, lest the thing should get the mastery of 
 me, and I become unfitted for my work on earth. . . . 
 I will stop while there is yet time, while I am still mis- 
 tress of my mind, and have the strength to deny myself 
 this awful joy." 
 
 Was there not a warning in these words, and in those 
 other words : *' No, do not search, but wait." Surely they 
 told of risk to him who, being yet on earth, dared to lift 
 a corner of the veil which separates flesh and spirit. 
 " Should get the mastery of me." If he saw her once 
 would he be able to do as Stella did, and by an effort of 
 his will separate himself from a communion so fearful yet 
 so sweet ? " Unfitted for my work." Supposing that
 
 328 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 it did get the mastery of him, would he not also be un- 
 fitted for his work on earth ? 
 
 His work? What work had he now? It seemed 
 to be done ; for attending scientific meetings, receiving 
 dividends, playing the country squire's only son and 
 the wealthy host whilst awaiting the title which Mary 
 wished for these things are not work, and somehow 
 his days were so arranged that he was never allowed to 
 go beyond them. All further researches and experi- 
 ments were discouraged. What did it matter if he were 
 unfitted for that which he could no longer do ? His 
 work was finished. There it stood before him in that 
 box, stamped " Monk's Aerophone. The Twin. No. 
 
 3412." 
 
 No ; he had but one ambition left. To pierce the cur- 
 tain of thick night and behold her who was lost to him ; 
 her who loved him as man had been seldom loved. 
 
 The fierce temptation struck him as a sudden squall 
 strikes a ship with all her canvas spread. For a mo- 
 ment mast and rigging stood the strain, then they went 
 by the board. He would do it if it killed him ; but the 
 task must be undertaken properly, deliberately, and 
 above all in secret. To-morrow he would begin. When 
 he had satisfied himself; when he had seen ; then he 
 could always stop. 
 
 A few minutes later Morris stood beside his wife's 
 bed. There she lay, in the first perfection of young 
 motherhood and beauty, a lovely, white-wrapped vision 
 with straying golden hair ; her sweet, rounded face pink 
 with the flush of sleep, and the long lashes lying like 
 little shadows on her cheek. 
 
 Morris looked at her, and his doubts returned. What
 
 THE EVIL GATE 329 
 
 would Stella say ? he thought to himself. It almost 
 seemed to him that he could hear her voice, bidding 
 him forbear ; bidding him render unto his wife those 
 things which were his wife's : all honour, loyalty, and 
 devotion. If he entered on this course could he still 
 render them ? Was there not such a thing as moral 
 infidelity, and did not such exercises as he proposed 
 partake of its nature ? Perhaps, perhaps. On the 
 whole it might be well to put all this behind him. 
 
 It was three o'clock, he was tired out, and must sleep. 
 The morning would be a more fitting time to ponder 
 such weighty questions of the unwritten matrimonial law. 
 
 In due course, the morning came indeed, it was not 
 far off and with it wiser counsels. Mary woke early 
 and talked about the baby, which was teething; indeed, 
 so soon as the nurse was up she sent for it that the three 
 of them might hold a consultation over a swollen gum. 
 Also she discussed the date of their departure to Beaulieu, 
 for again Christmas was near at hand ; adding, however, 
 somewhat to Morris's relief, that unless the baby's teeth 
 went on better she really did not think that they could go, 
 as it would be most unwise to take her out of the care 
 of Dr. Charters and trust her to the tender mercies of 
 foreign leeches. Morris agreed that it might be risky, 
 and mentioned that in a letter which he had received 
 from the concierge at Beaulieu a few days before, that 
 functionary said that the place was overrun with measles 
 and scarlatina. 
 
 " Morris ! " ejaculated Mary, sitting bolt upright in 
 bed, " and you never told me ! What is more, had it 
 not been for baby's teeth, which brought it to your mind, 
 I believe you never would have told me, and I might
 
 330 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 have taken those unprotected little angels and Oh ! 
 goodness, I can't bear to think of it." 
 
 Morris muttered some apologies, whereon Mary, look- 
 ing at him suspiciously through her falling hair, asked : 
 
 " Why did you forget to show me the letter ? Did 
 you suppress it because you wanted to go to Beaulieu ? " 
 
 " No," answered Morris with energy; " I hate Beaulieu. 
 I forgot, that is all; because I have so much to think 
 about, I suppose." 
 
 " So much ? I thought that things were arranged now 
 so that you had nothing at all to think about except how 
 to spend your money and be happy with me, and adore 
 the dear angels Yes, I think that perhaps the nurse 
 had better take her away. Touch the bell, will you ? 
 There, she's gone. Keep her well wrapped up, and 
 mind the draught, nurse. 
 
 " No, don't get up yet, Morris ; I want to talk to you. 
 You have been very gloomy of late, just like you used 
 to be before you married, mooning about and staring at 
 nothing. And what on earth do you do sitting up to all 
 hours of the morning in that ghosty old chapel, where 
 I wouldn't be alone at twelve o'clock for a hundred 
 pounds ? " 
 
 " I read," said Morris. 
 
 " Read ? Read what ? Novels ? " 
 
 "Sometimes," answered Morris. 
 
 " Oh, how can you tell such fibs ? Why, that last book 
 by Lady What's-her-name which came in the Mudie box 
 the one they say is so improper has been lying on 
 your table for over two months, and you can't tell me 
 yet what it was the heroine did wrong. Morris, you are 
 not inventing anything more, are you ? "
 
 THE EVIL GATE 331 
 
 Here was an inspiration. " I admit that I am think- 
 ing of a little thing," he said with diffidence, as though 
 he were a budding poet with a sonnet on his mind. 
 
 " A little thing ? What little thing ? " 
 
 "Well, a new kind of aerophone designed to work 
 uninfluenced by its twin." 
 
 "Well, and why shouldn't it? Everything can't 
 have a twin only I suppose there would be nothing 
 to hear." 
 
 "That's just the point," replied Morris in his old pro- 
 fessional manner. " I think there would be plenty to 
 hear if only I could make the machine sensitive to the 
 sounds and capable of reproducing them." 
 
 " What sounds ? " asked Mary. 
 
 " Well, if, for instance, one could successfully insulate 
 it from the earth noises, the sounds which permeate 
 space, and even those that have their origin upon the 
 surfaces of the planets and perhaps of the more distant 
 stars." 
 
 " Great heavens ! " exclaimed Mary, " imagine a man 
 who can want to let loose upon our poor little world 
 every horrible noise that happens in the stars. Why, 
 what under heaven would be the use of it?" 
 
 " Well, one might communicate with them. Conceiv- 
 ably even one might hear the speech of their inhabit- 
 ants, if they have any ; always presuming that such an 
 instrument could be made, and that it can be success- 
 fully insulated." 
 
 " Hear the speech of their inhabitants ! That is your 
 old idea, but you will never succeed, that's one blessing. 
 Morris, I suspect you ; you want to stop at home here 
 to work at this horrible new machine; to work for years,
 
 332 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 and years, and years without the slightest result. I 
 suppose that you didn't invent that about the measles 
 and the scarlatina, did you ? The two of them to- 
 gether sound rather clumsy, as though you might have 
 done so." 
 
 " Not a bit, upon my honour," answered Morris. " I 
 will go and get the letter," and, not sorry to escape from 
 further examination, he went. 
 
 Whether the cause were Mary's doubts and reproaches, 
 or the infant's gums, or the working of his own con- 
 science, he felt that a man with a teething baby has 
 no right to cultivate the occult. For quite a long period, 
 a whole fortnight, indeed, Morris steadily refrained 
 from any attempt to fulfil his dangerous ambition to 
 " pierce the curtain of thick night." Only he read and 
 re-read Stella's diary that secret, fascinating work 
 which in effect was building a wall between him and 
 the healthy, common instincts of the world till he 
 knew whole pages of it by heart. Also he began a 
 series of experiments whereof the object was to produce 
 an improved and more sensitive aerophone. 
 
 That any instrument which the intellect of man 
 could produce would really succeed in conveying 
 sounds which, if they exist at all, are born in the vast 
 cosmic areas that envelope our earth and its atmos- 
 phere, he believed to be most improbable. Still, such 
 a thing was possible, for what is not ? Moreover, the 
 world itself as it rushes on its fearful journey across the 
 depths of space has doubtless many voices that have 
 not yet been heard by the ears of men, some of which 
 he might be able to discover and record. At the least 
 he stood upon the threshold of a new knowledge, and
 
 THE EVIL GATE 333 
 
 now a great desire arose in him to pass its doors, if so 
 he might, for who could tell what he would learn or see 
 behind them ? And by degrees, as he worked, always 
 with one ulterior object in his mind, his scruples van- 
 ished or were mastered by the growth of his longing, 
 till this became his ruling passion to behold the spirit 
 of Stella. Now he no longer reasoned with himself, 
 but openly, nakedly, in his own heart gave his will 
 over to the achievement of this monstrous and unnatu- 
 ral end. 
 
 How was it to be done ? That was now the sole di- 
 lemma which tormented him as the possible methods 
 of obtaining the drink he craves, or the drug that gives 
 him peace and radiant visions, torment the dipsomaniac 
 or the morphia victim in his guarded prison. He 
 thought of his instruments, those magic machines with 
 the working of which Stella had been familiar in her 
 life. He even poured petitions into them in the hope 
 that these might be delivered far beyond the reach or 
 ken of man, only to learn that he was travelling a road 
 which led to a wall impassable; the wall that, for the 
 lack of a better name, we call Death, which bars the 
 natural from the spiritual. 
 
 Wonderful as were his electrical appliances, innumer- 
 able as might be their impalpable emanations, insoluble 
 as seemed the mystery of their power of catching and 
 transmitting sounds by the agency of ether, they were 
 still physical appliances producing physical effects in 
 obedience to the laws of nature. But what he sought 
 lay beyond nature and was subject to some rule of 
 which he did not even know the elements, and much 
 less the axioms. Herein his instruments, or indeed, any
 
 334 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 that man could make, were as futile and as useless as 
 would be the prayers of an archbishop addressed to a 
 Mumbo-jumbo in a fetish house. The link was want- 
 ing ; there was, and could be, no communication between 
 the two. The invisible ether which he had subdued to 
 his purposes was still a constituent part of the world 
 of matter ; he must discover the spiritual ether, and dis- 
 cover also the animating force by which it might be 
 influenced. 
 
 Now he formed a new plan to reach the dead 
 by his petitions, by the invocation of his own spirit. 
 " Seek me and you shall find me," she had said. So 
 he sought and called in bitterness and concentration of 
 heart, but still he did not find. Stella did not come. 
 
 He was in despair. She had promised, and her pro- 
 mise seemed to be broken. Then it was that in turning 
 the pages of her diary he came across a passage that 
 had escaped him, or which he had forgotten. It ran 
 thus: 
 
 " In the result I have learned this, that we cannot 
 compel the departed to appear. Even if they hear us 
 they will not, or are not suffered to obey. If we would 
 behold them we must create the power of vision in our 
 own natures. They are about us always, only we can- 
 not see or feel their presence ; our senses are too gross. 
 To succeed we must refine our senses until they acquire 
 an aptitude beyond the natural. Then without any will 
 or any intervention on their parts, we may triumph, 
 perhaps even when they do not know that we have 
 triumphed."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 STELLA COMES 
 
 Now, by such arts as are known to those who have 
 studied mysticism in any of its protean forms, Morris 
 set himself to attempt communication with the unseen. 
 In their practice these arts are as superlatively unwhole- 
 some as in their result, successful or not, they are un- 
 natural. Also, they are very ancient. The Chaldeans 
 knew them, and the magicians who stood before Pha- 
 raoh knew them. To the early Christian anchorites and 
 to the gnostics they were familiar. In one shape or an- 
 other, ancient wonder-workers, Scandinavian and medi- 
 aeval seers, modern Spiritualists, classical interpreters of 
 oracles, Indian fakirs, savage witch-doctors and medi- 
 cine men, all submitted or submit themselves to the yoke 
 of the same rule in the hope of attaining an end which, 
 however it may vary in its manifestations, is identical in 
 essence. 
 
 This is the rule : to beat down the flesh and its in- 
 stincts and nurture the spirit, its aspirations and powers. 
 And this is the end to escape before the time, if only 
 partially and at intervals, into an atmosphere of vision 
 true or false, where human feet were meant to find no 
 road, and the trammelled minds of men no point of out- 
 look. That such an atmosphere exists even material- 
 ists would hesitate to deny, for it is proved by the whole 
 
 335
 
 336 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 history of the moral world, and especially by that of the 
 religions of the world, their founders, their prophets 
 and their exponents, many of whom have breathed its 
 ether, and pronounced it the very breath of life. Their 
 feet have walked the difficult path ; standing on those 
 forbidden peaks they have scanned the dim plains and 
 valleys of the unseen, and made report of the dreams 
 and shapes that haunt them. Then the busy hordes of 
 men beneath for a moment pause to listen and are 
 satisfied. 
 
 " Lo, here is Truth," they cry, " now we may cease 
 from troubling." So for a while they rest till others 
 answer, " Nay, this is Truth ; our teacher told it us from 
 yonder mountain, the only Holy Hill." And yet others 
 fall upon them and slay them, shouting, " Neither of 
 these is Truth. She dwells not among the precipices, 
 but in the valley ; there we have heard her accents." 
 
 And still from cliff to cliff and along the secret vales 
 echoes the voice of Truth; and still upon the snow- 
 wreathed peaks and across the space of rolling ocean, 
 and even among the populous streets of men, veiled, 
 mysterious, and changeful, her shape is seen by those 
 who have trained themselves or been inspired to watch 
 and hear. But no two see the same shape, and no 
 two hear the same voice, since to each she wears a 
 different countenance, and speaks with another tongue. 
 For Truth is as the sand of the shore for number, and 
 as the infinite hues of the rainbow for variety. Yet the 
 sand is ground out of one mother rock, and all the 
 colours of earth and air are born of a single sun. 
 
 So, practising the ancient rites and mysteries, and 
 bowing himself to the ancient law whose primeval prin-
 
 STELLA COMES 337 
 
 ciples every man and woman may find graven upon the 
 tablets of their solitary heart, Morris set himself to find 
 that truth, which for him was hid in the invisible soul 
 of Stella, the soul which he desired to behold and 
 handle, even if the touch and sight should slay him. 
 
 Day by day he worked, for as many hours as he 
 could make his own, at the details of his new experi- 
 ments. These in themselves were interesting, and 
 promised even to be fruitful ; but that was not his ob- 
 ject, or, at any rate, his principal object in pursuing them 
 with such an eager passion of research. The talk and 
 hazardings which had passed between himself and the 
 living Stella notwithstanding, both reason and experi- 
 ence had taught him already that all instruments made 
 by the hand of man were useless to break a way into 
 the dwellings of the departed. A day might come when 
 they would enable the inhabitants of earth to converse 
 with the living denizens of the most distant stars ; but 
 never, never with the dead. He laboured because of 
 the frame of thought his toil brought with it, but still 
 more that he might be alone : that he might be able 
 to point to his soiled hands, the shabby clothes which 
 he wore when working with chemicals or at the forge, 
 the sheets of paper covered with half-finished and mad- 
 dening calculations, as an excuse why he should not 
 be taken out, or, worse still, dragged from his home 
 to stay for nights, or perhaps whole weeks, in other 
 places. Even his wife, he felt, would relent at the 
 sight of those figures, and would fly from the odour of 
 chemicals. 
 
 In fact, Mary did both, for she hated what she called 
 " smells," and a place strewn with hot irons and bottles
 
 338 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 of acids, which, as she discovered, if disturbed burnt both 
 dress and fingers. The sight also of algebraic characters 
 pursuing each other across quires of paper, like the 
 grotesque forces of some broken, impish army, filled her 
 indolent mind with a wondering admiration that was 
 akin to fear. The man, she reflected, who could force 
 those cabalistic symbols to reveal anything worth know- 
 ing must indeed be a genius, and one who deserved not 
 to be disturbed, even for a tea party. 
 
 Although she disapproved deeply of these renewed 
 studies, such was Mary's secret thought. Whether it 
 would have sufficed alone to persuade her to permit 
 them is another matter, since her instinct, keen and 
 subtle as any of Morris's appliances, warned her that 
 in them lay danger to her home and happiness. But 
 just then, as it happened, there were other matters to 
 occupy her mind. The baby became seriously ill over 
 its teething, and, other infantile complications follow- 
 ing, for some weeks it was doubtful whether she would 
 survive. 
 
 Now Mary belonged to the class of woman which is 
 generally known as " motherly," and adored her off- 
 spring almost to excess. Consequently for those weeks 
 she found plenty to think about without troubling her- 
 self over-much as to Morris and his experiments. For 
 these same reasons, perhaps, she scarcely noticed, seated 
 as she was some distance away at the further end of the 
 long table, how very ethereal her husband's appetite 
 had become, or that, although he took wine as usual, it 
 was a mere pretence, since he never emptied his glass. 
 The most loving of women can scarcely be expected to 
 consider a man's appetite when that of a baby is in
 
 STELLA COMES 339 
 
 question, or, while the child wastes, to take note whether 
 or no its father is losing flesh. Lastly, as regards the 
 hours at which he came to bed, being herself a sound 
 sleeper Mary had long since ceased to interest herself 
 about them, on the wise principle that so long as she 
 was not expected to sit up it was no affair of hers. 
 
 Thus it happened that Morris worked and meditated 
 by day, and by night ah ! who that has not tried to 
 climb this difficult and endless Jacob's ladder resting 
 upon the earth and losing itself far, far away in the blue 
 heaven above, can understand what he did by night ? 
 But those who have stood even on its lowest rung will 
 guess, and for the rest it does not matter. 
 
 He advanced ; he knew that he advanced, that the 
 gross wall of sense was wearing thin beneath the attacks 
 of his out-thrown soul ; that even if they were not drawn, 
 from time to time the black curtains swung aside in the 
 swift, pure breath of his continual prayers. Moreover, 
 the dead drew near to him at moments, or he drew near 
 the dead. Even in his earthly brain he could feel their 
 awful presence as wave by wave soft, sweet pulses of 
 impression beat upon him and passed through him. 
 Through and through him they passed till his brow 
 ached, and every nerve of his body tingled, as though it 
 had become the receiver of some mysterious current 
 that stirred his blood with what was not akin to it, and 
 summoned to his mind strange memories and foresights. 
 Visions came also that he could not define, to slip from 
 his frantic grasp like wet sand through the fingers of 
 a drowning man. More and more frequently, and with 
 an ever increasing completeness, did this unearthly air, 
 blowing from a shore no human foot has trod, breathe
 
 340 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 through his being and possess him, much as some faint 
 wind which we cannot feel may be seen to possess an 
 aspen tree so that it turns white and shivers when every 
 other natural thing is still. And as that aspen turns 
 white and shivers in this thin, impalpable air, so did his 
 spirit blanch and quiver with joy and dread mingled 
 mysteriously in the cup of his expectant soul. 
 
 Again and again those sweet, yet sickening waves 
 flowed over him, to leave him shaken and unnerved. 
 At first they were rare visitors, single clouds floating 
 across his calm, coming he knew not whence and van- 
 ishing he knew not whither. Now they drove in upon 
 him like some scud, ample yet broken, before the wind, 
 till at whiles, as it were, he could not see the face of 
 the friendly, human sun. Then he was like a traveller 
 lost in the mist upon a mountain top, sure of nothing, 
 feeling precipices about him, hearing voices calling him, 
 seeing white arms stretched out to lead him, yet running 
 forward gladly because amid so many perils a fate was 
 in his feet. 
 
 Now, too, they came with an actual sense of wind. 
 He would wake up at night even by his wife's side and 
 feel this unholy breath blowing ice-cold on his brow and 
 upon the backs of his outstretched hands. Yet if he lit 
 a candle it had no power to stir its flame; yes, while 
 it still blew sharp upon him the flame of the candle 
 did not move. Then the wind would cease, and within 
 him the intangible, imponderable power would arise, 
 and the voices would speak like the far, far murmur of 
 a stream, and the thoughts which he could not weigh or 
 interpret would soak into his being like some strange 
 dew, and soft, soft as falling snow, invisible feet would
 
 STELLA COMES 341 
 
 tread the air about him, till of a sudden a door in his 
 brain seemed to shut, and he woke to the world again. 
 
 Every force is subject to laws. Even if they were 
 but the emanations of an incipient madness which like 
 all else have their origins, destinies, and forms, these 
 possessing vapours were a force, which in time Morris, 
 whose mind from a lifelong training was scientific and 
 methodical, accustomed, moreover, to struggle for do- 
 minion over elements unknown or imperfectly appreci- 
 ated, learned to regulate if not entirely to control. 
 Their visits were pleasant to him, a delight even; but 
 to experience this joy to the utmost he discovered that 
 their power must be concentrated ; that if the full effect 
 was to be produced this moral morphia must be taken 
 in strong doses, and at stated intervals, sufficient space 
 being allowed between them to give his mental being 
 time to recuperate. Science has proved that even the 
 molecules of a wire can grow fatigued by the con- 
 stant passage of electricity, or the edge of a razor by 
 too frequent stropping. Both of them, to be effective, 
 to do their utmost service, must have periods of rest. 
 
 Here, then, his will came to his aid, for he found that by 
 its strong, concentrated exertion he was enabled both to 
 shut off the sensations or to excite them. Another thing 
 he found also that after a while it was impossible 
 to do without them. For a period the anticipation of 
 their next visit would buoy him up ; but if it were 
 baulked too long, then reaction set in, and with it the 
 horrors of the Pit. 
 
 This was the first stage of his insanity or of his 
 vision. 
 
 Dear as such manifestations might be to him, in time
 
 342 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 he wearied of them ; these hints which but awakened his 
 imagination, these fantastic spiced meats which, without 
 staying it, only sharpened his spiritual appetite. More 
 than ever he longed to see and to know, to make 
 acquaintance with the actual presence, whereof they 
 were but the forerunners, the cold blasts that go before 
 the storm, the vague, mystical draperies which veiled 
 the unearthly goddess at whose shrine he was a wor- 
 shipper. He desired the full fierce fury of the tempest, 
 the blinding flash of the lightning, the heavy hiss of 
 the rain, the rush of the winds bursting on him from the 
 four horizons; he desired the naked face of his god- 
 dess. 
 
 And she came or he acquired the power to see her, 
 whichever it might be. She came suddenly, unexpect- 
 edly, completely, as a goddess should. 
 
 It was on Christmas Eve, at night, the anniversary of 
 Stella's death four years before. Morris and his wife 
 were alone at the Abbey, as the Colonel had gone for a 
 fortnight or so to Beaulieu, just to keep the house aired, 
 as he explained. Also Lady Rawlins was there with her 
 husband, the evil-tempered man who by a single stroke 
 of sickness had been converted into a babbling imbecile, 
 harmless as a babe, and amused for the most part with 
 such toys as are given to babes. She, so Morris under- 
 stood, had intimated that Sir Jonah was failing, really 
 failing quickly, and that in her f riendlessness at a foreign 
 place, especially at Christmas time, she would be thank- 
 ful to have the comfort of an old friend's presence. This 
 the old friend, who, having been back from town for a 
 whole month, was getting rather bored with Monksland
 
 STELLA COMES 343 
 
 and the sick baby, determined to vouchsafe, explaining 
 that he knew that young married people liked to be 
 left to each other now and again, especially when they 
 were worried with domestic troubles. Lady Rawlins 
 was foolish and fat, but, as the Colonel remembered, 
 she was fond. Where, indeed, could another woman 
 be found who would endure so much scientific discipline 
 and yet be thankful ? Also, within a few weeks, after 
 the expected demise of Jonah, she would be wondrous 
 wealthy that he knew. Therefore it seemed that 
 the matter was worth consideration and a journey 
 to Beaulieu. 
 
 So the Colonel went, and Morris, more and more pos- 
 sessed by his monomania, was glad that he had gone. 
 His absence gave him greater opportunities of loneli- 
 ness ; it was now no longer necessary that he should 
 sit at night smoking with his father, or, rather, watch- 
 ing him smoke at the expense of so many precious 
 hours when he should be up and doing. 
 
 Morris and Mary dined tete-a-tete that evening, but 
 almost immediately after dinner she had gone to the 
 nurseries. The baby was now threatened with convul- 
 sions, and a trained nurse had been installed. But, as 
 Mary did not in the least trust the nurse, who, accord- 
 ing to her account, was quite unaccustomed to children, 
 she insisted upon dogging that functionary's footsteps. 
 Therefore, Morris saw little of her. 
 
 It was one o'clock on Christmas morning, or more. 
 Hours ago Morris had gone through his rites, the ritual 
 that he had invented or discovered in its essence, simple 
 and pathetic enough whereby he strove to bring him-
 
 344 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 self to the notice of the dead, and to fit himself to see 
 or hear the dead. Such tentative mysticism as served 
 his turn need not be written down, but its substance can 
 be imagined by many. Then, through an exercise of his 
 will, he had invoked the strange, trance-like state which 
 has been described. The soft waves flowing from an 
 unknown source had beat upon his brain, and with 
 them came the accustomed phenomena; the sense of 
 some presence near, impending, yet impotent; suggest- 
 ing by analogy and effect the misdirected efforts of a 
 blind person seeking something in a room, or the pain- 
 ful attempt of one almost deaf, striving to sift out words 
 from a confused murmur of sounds. The personality 
 of Stella seemed to pervade him, yet he could see noth- 
 ing, could hear nothing. The impression might be from 
 within, not from without. Perhaps, after all, it was noth- 
 ing but a dream, a miasma, a mirage, drawn by his own 
 burning thought from the wastes and marshes of his 
 mind peopled with illusive hopes and waterlogged by 
 memories. Or it might be true and real; as yet he 
 could not be certain of its origin. 
 
 The fit passed, delightful in its overpowering empti- 
 ness, but unsatisfying as all that had gone before it, and 
 left him weak. For a while Morris crouched by the fire, 
 for he had grown cold, and could not think accurately. 
 Then his vital, human strength returned, and, as seemed 
 to him to be fitting upon this night of all nights, he 
 began one by one to recall the events of that day four 
 years ago, when Stella was still a living woman. 
 
 The scene in the Dead Church, the agonies of fare- 
 well ; he summoned them detail by detail, word by 
 word; her looks, the changes of her expression, the
 
 STELLA COMES 345 
 
 movements of her hands and eyes and lips ; he counted 
 and pictured each precious souvenir. The sound of her 
 last sentences also, as the blind, senseless aerophone 
 had rendered them just before the end, one by one they 
 were repeated in his brain. There stood the very instru- 
 ment ; but, alas ! it was silent now, its twin lay buried 
 in the sea with her who had worked it. 
 
 Morris grew weary, the effort of memory was exhaust- 
 ing ; and after it he was glad to think of nothing. The 
 fire flickered, the clear light of the electric lamps shone 
 upon the hard, sixteenth-century faces of the painted 
 angels in the ancient roof ; without the wind soughed, 
 and through it rose the constant, sullen roar of the sea. 
 
 Tired, disappointed, unhappy, and full of self-re- 
 proaches, for when the madness was not on him he 
 knew his sin, Morris sank into a doze. Now music 
 crept softly into his sleep ; sweet, thrilling music, caus- 
 ing him to open his eyes and smile. It was Christmas 
 Eve, and doubtless he heard the village waits. 
 
 Morris looked up arousing himself to listen, and lo ! 
 there before him, unexpected and ineffable, was Stella ; 
 Stella as she appeared that night on which she had 
 sung to him, just as she finished singing, indeed, when 
 she stood for a while in the faint moonlight, the flame 
 of inspiration still flickering in those dark eyes and the 
 sweet lips drawn down a little as though she were about 
 to weep. 
 
 The sight did not astonish him, at the moment he 
 never imagined even that this could be her spirit, that 
 his long labours in a soil no man was meant to till had 
 issued into harvest. Surely it was a dream, nothing but 
 a dream. He felt no tremors, no cold wind stirred his
 
 346 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 hair ; his heart did not stand still, nor his breath come 
 short. Why should a man fear so beautiful a dream ? 
 Yet, vaguely enough, he wished that it might last for- 
 ever, for it was sweet to see her so as she had been. 
 As she had been yet, was she ever thus? Surely 
 some wand of change had touched her. She was 
 beautiful, but had she worn that beauty ? And those 
 eyes ! Could any such have shone in the face of 
 woman ? 
 
 " Stella," he whispered, and from roof and walls 
 crept back the echo of his voice. He rose and went 
 towards her. She had vanished. He returned, and there 
 she was. 
 
 "Speak!" he muttered; "speak!" But no word 
 came, only the lovely changeless eyes shone on and 
 watched him. 
 
 Listen ! Music seemed to float about the room, such 
 music as he had never heard even Stella could not 
 make the like. The air was full of it, the night without 
 was full of it, millions of voices took up the chant, and 
 from far away, note by note, mighty organs and silver 
 trumpets told its melody. 
 
 His brain reeled. In the ocean of those unimagined 
 harmonies it was tossed like a straw upon a swirling 
 river, tossed and overwhelmed. 
 
 Slowly, very slowly, as the straw might be sucked into 
 the heart of a whirlpool, his soul was drawn down into 
 blackness. It shuddered, it was afraid ; this vision of 
 a whirlpool haunted him. He could see the narrow 
 funnel of its waters, smooth, shining like jet, unspecked 
 by foam, solid to all appearances ; but, as he was aware, 
 alive, every atom of them, instinct with some frightful
 
 STELLA COMES 347 
 
 energy, the very face of force and in the teeth of it, 
 less than a dead leaf, himself. 
 
 Down he went, down, and still above him shone the 
 beautiful, pitying, changeless eyes ; and still round him 
 echoed that strange, searching music. The eyes receded, 
 the music became faint, and then blackness.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 DREAMS AND THE SLEEP 
 
 THE Christmas Day which followed this strange night 
 proved the happiest that Morris could ever remember to 
 have spent since his childhood. In his worldly circum- 
 stances of course he was oppressed by none of the 
 everyday worries which at this season are the lot of 
 most no duns came to trouble him, nor through lack 
 of means was he obliged to turn any beggar from his 
 door. Also the baby was much better, and Mary's 
 spirits were consequently radiant. Never, indeed, had 
 she been more lovely and charming than when that 
 morning she presented him with a splendid gold chro- 
 nometer to take the place of the old silver watch which 
 was his mother's as a girl, and that he had worn all his 
 life. Secretly he sorrowed over parting with that 
 familiar companion in favour of its new eighty-guinea 
 rival, although it was true that it always lost ten minutes 
 a day, and sometimes stopped altogether. But there 
 was no help for it ; so he kissed Mary and was grateful. 
 
 Moreover, the day was beautiful. In the morning 
 they walked to church through the Abbey planta- 
 tions, which run for nearly half a mile along the edge 
 of the cliff. The rime lay thick upon the pines and firs 
 every little needle had its separate coat of white 
 whereon the sun's rays glistened. The quiet sea, too, 
 shone like some gigantic emerald, and in the sweet still- 
 
 348
 
 DREAMS AND THE SLEEP 349 
 
 ness the song of a robin perched upon the bending 
 bough of a young poplar sounded pure and clear. 
 
 Yet it was not this calm and plenty, this glittering 
 ocean flecked with white sails, and barred by delicate 
 lines of smoke, this blue and happy sky, nor all the 
 other good things that were given to him in such abun- 
 dance, which steeped his heart in Sabbath rest. Al- 
 though he sought no inspiration from such drugs, and, 
 indeed, was a stranger to them, rather was his joy the 
 joy of the opium-eater while the poison works ; the joy 
 of him who after suffering long nights of pain has found 
 their antidote, and perhaps for the first time appreciates 
 the worth of peace, however empty. His troubled 
 heart had ceased its striving, his wrecked nerves were 
 still, his questionings had been answered, his ends were 
 attained ; he had drunk of the divine cup which he 
 desired, and its wine flowed through him. The dead had 
 visited him, and he had tasted of the delight which lies 
 hid in death. On that day he felt as though nothing 
 could hurt him any more, nothing could even move him. 
 The angry voices, the wars, the struggles, the question- 
 ings all the things which torment mankind ; what did 
 they matter ? He had forced the lock and broken the 
 bar ; if only for a little while, the door had opened, and 
 he had seen that which he desired to see and sought 
 with all his soul, and with the wondrous harvest of this 
 pure, inhuman passion, that owes nothing to sex, or time, 
 or earth, he was satisfied at last. 
 
 " Why did you look so strange in church ? " asked 
 Mary as they walked home, and her voice echoed in the 
 spaces of his void mind as words echo in an empty hall. 
 
 His thoughts were wandering far, and with difficulty
 
 350 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 he drew them back, as birds tied by the foot are drawn 
 back and, still fluttering to be free, brought home to the 
 familiar cage. 
 
 " Strange, dear? " he answered; " did I look strange ? " 
 
 " Yes ; like a man in a dream or the face of a saint 
 being comfortably martyred in a picture. Morris, I be- 
 lieve that you are not well. I will speak to the doctor. 
 He must give you a tonic, or something for your liver. 
 Really, to see you and that old mummy Mr. Fregelius 
 staring at each other while he murmured away about 
 the delights of the world to come, and how happy we 
 ought to be at the thought of getting there, made me 
 feel quite uncomfortable." 
 
 " Why ? Why, dear ? " asked Morris, vacantly. 
 
 " Why ? Because the old man with his pale face and 
 big eyes looked more like an astral body than a healthy 
 human being ; if I met him in his surplice at night, I 
 should think he was a ghost, and upon my word, you 
 are catching the same expression. That comes of your 
 being so much together. Do be a little more human 
 and healthy. Lose your temper; swear at the cook like 
 your father; admire Jane Rose's pretty bonnet, or her 
 pretty face; take to horse-racing, do anything that is 
 natural, even if it is wicked. Anything that doesn't 
 make one think of graves, and stars, and infinities, and 
 souls who died last night ; of all of which no doubt we 
 shall have plenty in due season." 
 
 " All right, dear," answered Morris, with a fine access 
 of forced cheerfulness, " we will have some champagne 
 for dinner and play picquet after it." 
 
 " Champagne ! What's the use of champagne when 
 you only pretend to drink it and fill up the glass with
 
 DREAMS AND THE SLEEP 351 
 
 soda-water ? Picquet ! You hate it, and so do I ; and it 
 is silly losing large sums of money to each other which 
 we never mean to pay. That isn't the real thing, there's 
 no life in that. Oh, Morris, if you love me, do cultivate 
 some human error. It is terrible to have a husband 
 in whom there is nothing to reform." 
 
 " I will try, love," said Morris, earnestly. 
 
 " Yes," she replied, with a gloomy shake of the head, 
 " but you won't succeed. When Mrs. Roberts told me 
 the other day that she was afraid her husband was 
 taking to drink because he went out walking too often 
 with that pretty widow from North Cove the one 
 with the black and gold bonnet whom they say things 
 about I answered that I quite envied her, and she 
 didn't in the least understand what I meant. But I 
 understand, although I can't express myself." 
 
 "I give up the drink," said Morris; "it disagrees; 
 but perhaps you might introduce me to the widow. 
 She seems rather attractive." 
 
 " I will," answered Mary, stamping her foot. " She's a 
 horrid, vulgar little thing; but I'll ask her to tea, or to 
 stay, and anything, if she can only make you look rather 
 less disembodied." 
 
 That night the champagne appeared, and, feeling his 
 wife's eyes upon him, Morris swallowed two whole glasses, 
 and in consequence was quite cheerful, for he had eaten 
 little circumstances under which champagne exhila- 
 rates for a little while. Then they went into the 
 drawing-room and talked themselves into silence about 
 nothing in particular, after which Morris began to wander 
 round the room and contemplate the furniture as though 
 he had never seen it before.
 
 352 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 " What are you fidgeting about ? " asked Mary. 
 " Morris, you remind me of somebody who wants to 
 slip away to an assignation, which in your case is absurd. 
 I wish your father were back, I really do ; I should be 
 glad to listen to his worst and longest story. It isn't 
 often that I sit with you, so it would be kinder if you 
 didn't look so bored. I'm cross; I'm going to bed. I 
 hope you will spend a pleasant night in the chapel with 
 your thoughts and your instruments and the ghosts of 
 the old Abbots. But please come into my room quietly ; 
 I don't like being woke up after three in the morning, 
 as I was yesterday." And she went, slamming the door 
 behind her. 
 
 Morris went also with hanging head and guilty step 
 to his accustomed haunt in the old chapel. He knew 
 that he was doing wrong ; he could sympathise with 
 Mary's indignation. Yet he was unable to resist, he 
 must see again, must drink once more of that heavenly 
 cup. 
 
 And he failed. Was it the champagne? Was it 
 Mary's sharp words which had ruffled him ? Was it 
 that he had not allowed time enough for the energy 
 which came from him enabling her to appear before his 
 mortal eyes, to gather afresh in the life-springs of his 
 own nature ? Or was she also angry with him ? 
 
 At least he failed. The waves came indeed, and the 
 cold wind blew, but there was no sound of music, and 
 no vision. Again and again he strove to call it up to 
 fancy that he saw. It was useless, and at last, weary, 
 broken, but filled with a mad irritation such as might 
 be felt by a hungry man who sees food which he cannot 
 touch, or by a jealous lover who beholds her that should
 
 DREAMS AND THE SLEEP 353 
 
 have been his bride take another husband before his 
 eyes, he crept away to such rest as he could win. 
 
 He awoke, ill, wretched, and unsatisfied, but wisdom 
 had come to him with sleep. He must not fail again, 
 it was too wearing ; he must prepare himself according 
 to the rules which he had laid down. Also he must con- 
 ciliate his wife, so that she did not speak angrily to him, 
 and thus disturb his calm of mind. Broken waters mirror 
 nothing ; if his soul was to be the glass in which that 
 beloved spirit might appear, it must be still and undis- 
 turbed. If ? Then was she built up in his imagination, 
 or did he really see her with his eyes ? He could not tell, 
 and after all it mattered little so long as he did see her. 
 
 He grew cunning in such circumstances a common 
 symptom affecting a " bonhomie," a joviality of de- 
 meanour indeed, which was rather overdone. He 
 suggested that Mary should ask some people to tea, 
 and twice he went out shooting, a sport which he had 
 almost abandoned. Only when she wanted to invite 
 certain guests to stay, he demurred a little, on account 
 of the baby, but so cleverly that she never suspected 
 him of being insincere. In short, as he could attain 
 his unholy end in no other way, Morris entered on a 
 career of mild deception, designed to prevent his wife 
 from suspecting him of she knew not what. His con- 
 duct was that of a man engaged in an intrigue. In his 
 case, however, the possible end of his ill-doing was not 
 the divorce court, but an asylum, or so some observers 
 would have anticipated. Yet did man ever adore a 
 mistress so fatal and destroying as this poor shadow of 
 the dead which he desired ? 
 
 It was not until New Year's Eve that Stella came
 
 354 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 again. Once more enervated and exhausted by the 
 waves, Morris sank into a doze whence, as before, he 
 was awakened by the sound of heavenly music to which, 
 on this night, was added the scent of perfume. Then 
 he opened his eyes to behold Stella. As she had been 
 at first, so she was now, only more lovely a hundred 
 times lovelier than the imagination can paint, or the 
 pen can tell. Here was nothing pale or deathlike, no 
 sheeted, melancholy spectre, but a radiant being whose 
 garment was the light, and whose eyes glowed like the 
 heart of some deep jewel. About her rolled a vision 
 of many colours, such hues as the rainbow has fell upon 
 her face and feet and hair. And yet it was the same 
 Stella that he had known made perfect and spiritual 
 and, beyond all imagining, divine. 
 
 Once more he addressed implored her, and once 
 more no answer came; nor did her face change, or that 
 wondrous smile pass from her lips into the gravity of 
 her eyes. This, at least, was sure; either that she no 
 longer had any understanding knowledge of his earthly 
 tongue or that its demonstration was to her a thing 
 forbidden. What was she then ? That double of the 
 body which the old Egyptians called the Ka, or the 
 soul itself, the Trvevfjia, no eidolon, but the immortal ego, 
 clothed in human semblance made divine ? 
 
 Why was there no answer ? Because his speech was 
 too gross for her to hearken to ? Why did she not 
 speak ? Because his ears were deaf ? Was this an 
 illusion ? No ! a thousand times. When he approached 
 she vanished, but what of it? He was mortal, she a 
 spirit ; they might not mix. 
 
 Yet in her own method she did speak, spoke to his
 
 DREAMS AND THE SLEEP 355 
 
 soul, bidding the scales fall from its eyes so that it 
 might see. And it saw what human imagination could 
 not fashion. Behold those gardens, those groves that 
 hang upon the measureless mountain face, and the 
 white flowers which droop in tresses from the dark 
 bough of yonder towering poplar tree, and the jewelled 
 serpent nestling at its root. 
 
 Oh! they are gone, and when the flame-eyed Figure 
 smote, the vast, barring, precipices fall apart and the 
 road is smooth and open. 
 
 How far ? A million miles ? No, twenty thousand 
 millions. Look, yonder shines the destined Star; now 
 come ! So, it is reached. Nay, do not stop to stare. 
 Look again ! out through utter space to where the low 
 light glows. So, come once more. The suns float past 
 like windblown golden dust like the countless lamps 
 of boats upon the bosom of a summer sea. There, be- 
 neath, lies the very home of Power. Those springing 
 sparks of light? They are the ineffable Decrees pass- 
 ing outward through infinity. That sound ? It is the 
 voice of worlds which worship. 
 
 Look now ! Out yonder see the flaming gases gather 
 and cohere. They burn out and the great globe blackens. 
 Cool mists wrap it, rains fall, seas collect, continents 
 arise. There is life, behold it, various and infinite. 
 And hearken to the whisper of this great universe, one 
 tiny note in that song of praise you heard but now. 
 Yes, the life dies, the ball grows black again ; it is the 
 carcase of a world. How long have you watched it ? 
 For an hour, a breath; but, as you judge time, some 
 ten thousand million years. Sleep now, you are weary ; 
 later you shall understand.
 
 356 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Thus the wraith of Stella spoke to his soul in visions. 
 Presently, with drumming ears and eyes before which 
 strange lights seemed to play, Morris staggered from 
 the place, so weak, indeed, that he could scarcely thrust 
 one foot before the other. Yet his heart was filled with 
 a mad joy, and his brain was drunken with the deep 
 cup of a delight and a knowledge that have seldom 
 been given to man. 
 
 On other nights the visions were different. Thus he 
 saw the spirits of men going out and returning, and 
 among them his own slumbering spirit that a vast and 
 shadowy Stella bore in her arms as a mother bears a 
 babe. 
 
 He saw also the Vision of Numbers. All the infinite 
 inhabitants of all the infinite worlds passed before him, 
 marching through the ages to some end unknown. 
 Once, too, his mind was opened, and he understood the 
 explanation of Evil and the Reason of Things. He 
 shouted at their glorious simplicity shouted with joy ; 
 but lo ! before he rose from his chair they were forgotten. 
 
 Other visions there were without count. Also they 
 would mix and fall into new patterns, like the bits of 
 glass in a kaleidoscope. There was no end to them, 
 and each was lovelier, or grander, or fraught with a 
 more sweet entrancement, than the last. And still 
 she who brought them, she who opened his eyes, who 
 caused his ears to hear and his soul to see; she whom he 
 worshipped ; his heart's twin, she who had sworn her- 
 self to him on earth, and was there waiting to fulfil 
 the oath to all eternity ; the woman who had become a 
 spirit, that spirit that had taken the shape of a woman 
 there she stood and smiled and changed, and yet was
 
 DREAMS AND THE SLEEP 357 
 
 changeless. And oh ! what did it matter if his life was 
 draining from him, and oh ! to die at those glittering 
 feet, with that perfumed breath stirring in his hair ! 
 What did he seek more when Death would be the great 
 immortal waking, when from twilight he passed out to 
 light ? What more when in that dawn, awful yet smil- 
 ing, she should be his and he hers, and they twain 
 would be one, with thought that answered thought, 
 since it was the same thought? 
 
 There is much that might be told enough to fill 
 many pages. It would be easy, for instance, to set out 
 long lists of the entrancing dreams which were the soul 
 speech of the spirit of Stella, and to some extent, to 
 picture them. Also the progress of the possession of 
 Morris might be described and the student of his history 
 shown, step by step, how the consummation that in her 
 life days Stella had feared, overtook him; how "the thing 
 got the mastery of him," and he became "unfitted for 
 his work on earth!" How, too, his body wasted and 
 his spiritual part developed, till every physical sight 
 and deed became a cause of irritation to his new nature, 
 and at times even a source of active suffering. 
 
 Thus an evil odour, the spectacle of pain, the cry of 
 grief, the sight of the carcases of dead animals, to 
 take a few examples out of very many, were agonies 
 to his abnormal, exasperated nerves. Nor did it stop 
 there, since the misfortune which threatened Stella when 
 at length she had succeeded in becoming bodily con- 
 scious of the presence of the eidolon of her sister, and 
 " heard discords among the harmonies " of the rich 
 music of her violin, overtook him also.
 
 358 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 Thus, for instance, in the scent of the sweetest rose 
 at times Morris would discover something frightful ; 
 even the guise of tender childhood ceased to be lovely 
 in his eyes, for now he could see and feel the budding 
 human brute beneath. Worse still, his beautiful com- 
 panion, Mary, fair and gracious as she was, became 
 almost repulsive to him, so that he shrank from her as 
 in common life some delicate-nurtured man might shrink 
 from a full-bodied, coarse-tongued young fishwife. 
 Even her daily need of food, which was healthy 
 though not excessive, disgusted him to witness, he 
 who was out of touch with all wholesome appetites of 
 earth, whose distorted nature sought an alien rest and 
 solace. 
 
 Of Mary herself also, it might be narrated how, after 
 first mocking at the thought and next thrusting it away, 
 by degrees she grew to appreciate the reality of the 
 mysterious foreign influence which reigned in her home. 
 It might be told how in that spiritual atmosphere, shed- 
 ding its sleepy indolence, her own spirit awoke and 
 grew conscious and far-seeing, till impressions and hints 
 which in the old days she would have set aside as idle, 
 became for her pregnant with light and meaning. 
 Then at last her eyes were opened, and understanding 
 much and guessing more she began to watch. The atti- 
 tude of the Colonel also could be studied, and how he 
 grew first suspicious, then sarcastic, and at last thor- 
 oughly alarmed, even to his ultimate evacuation of the 
 Abbey House, detailed at length. 
 
 But to the chronicler of these doings and of their un- 
 usual issues at any rate, it appears best to resist a natu- 
 ral temptation ; to deny the desire to paint such closing
 
 DREAMS AND THE SLEEP 359 
 
 scenes in petto. Much more does this certainty hold 
 of their explanation. Enough has been said to enable 
 those in whom the spark of understanding may burn, to 
 discover by its light how much is left unsaid. Enough 
 has been hinted at to teach how much there is still to 
 guess. At least few will deny that some things are best 
 abandoned to the imagination. To attempt to drag the 
 last veil from the face of Truth in any of her thousand 
 shapes is surely a folly predoomed to failure. From 
 the beginning she has been a veiled divinity, and veiled, 
 however thinly, she must and will remain. Also, even 
 were it possible thus to rob her, would not her bared 
 eyes frighten us ? 
 
 It was late, very late, and there, pale and haggard in 
 the low light of the fire, once again Morris stood plead- 
 ing with the radiant image which his heart revealed. 
 
 " Oh, speak ! speak ! " he moaned aloud. " I weary of 
 those pictures. They are too vast ; they crush me. I 
 grow weak. I have no strength to fight against the 
 power of this fearful life that is discovered. I can- 
 not bear this calm everlasting life. It sucks out my 
 mortality as mists are sucked up by the sun. Become 
 human. Speak. Let me touch your hand. Or be 
 angry. Only cease smiling that awful smile, and take 
 those solemn eyes out of my heart. Oh, my darling, 
 my darling ! remember that I am still a man. In pity 
 answer me before I die." 
 
 Then a low and awful cry, and Morris turned to 
 behold Mary his wife. At last she had seen and heard, 
 and read his naked heart. At last she knew him
 
 360 STELLA FREGELIUS 
 
 mad, and in his madness most unfaithful a man who 
 loved one dead and dragged her down to earth for 
 company. 
 
 Look ! there in his charmed and secret sight stood the 
 spirit, and there, over against her, the mortal woman, 
 and he wavering he lost between the two. 
 
 Certainly he had been sick a long while, since the 
 sun-ray touched the face of the old abbot carved in that 
 corner of the room to support the hammer beam. This, 
 as he had known from a child, only chanced at mid- 
 summer. Mary was bending over him, but he was as- 
 tonished to find that he could sit up and move. Surely, 
 then, his mind must have been more ill than his body. 
 
 " Hush ! " she said, " drink this, dear, and go to 
 sleep." 
 
 It was a week after, and Morris had told her all, the 
 kind and gentle wife who was so good to him, who 
 understood and could even smile as he explained, in 
 faltering, shame-heavy words. And he had sworn for 
 her sake and his children's sake, that he would put away 
 this awful traffic, and seek such fellowship no more. 
 
 Nor for six months did he seek it ; not till the winter 
 returned. Then, when his body was strong again, the 
 ravening hunger of his soul overcame him, and, lest he 
 should go mad or die of longing, Morris broke his oath 
 as she was sure he would. 
 
 One night Mary missed her husband from her side, 
 and creeping down in the grey of the morning, she found 
 him sitting in his chair in the chapel workshop, smiling 
 strangely, but cold and dead. Then her heart seemed to
 
 DREAMS AND THE SLEEP 361 
 
 break, for she loved him. Yet, remembering her prom- 
 ises, and the dust whereof he was made, and the fate to 
 which he had been appointed, she forgave him all. 
 
 The search renewed, or the fruit of some fresh discov- 
 ery what he sought or what he saw, who knows ? 
 had killed him. 
 
 Or perhaps Stella had seemed to speak at last and 
 the word he heard her say was Come ! 
 
 This, then, is the end of the story of Stella Fregelius 
 upon earth, and this the writing on a leaf torn from the 
 book of three human destinies. Remember, only one 
 leaf.
 
 A Selected List of Fiction 
 
 Published by 
 
 Longmans, Green, & Co., 
 
 91 and 93 Fifth Avenue, New York, 
 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 
 
 Each volume illustrated. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 
 A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE. THE MAN IN BLACK, $1.00. 
 THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF. FROM THE MEMOIRS OF A 
 UNDER THE RED ROBE. MINISTER OF FRANCE. 
 
 MY LADY ROTHA. THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDS 
 
 SHREWSBURY, with 24 Illustrations, Decorative Cover, $1.50. 
 THE RED COCKADE, with 48 Illustrations, cloth, $1.50. 
 THE CASTLE INN, with 6 full-page Illustrations, $1.50. 
 SOPHIA, with 12 full-page Illustrations, $1.50. 
 COUNT HANNIBAL. Illustrated, $1.50. 
 IN KINGS' BYWAYS, Illustrated, $1.50. 
 
 BY H. RIDER HAGGARD. 
 
 Each volume illustrated. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 
 
 HEART OF THE WORLD. 
 THE WORLD'S DESIRE. 
 THE WITCH'S HEAD. 
 ALLAN QUATERMAIN. 
 THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST. 
 
 NADA THE LILY. CLEOPATRA. 
 ERIC BRIGHTEYES. BEATRICE. 
 JOAN HASTE. DAWN. 
 
 THE WIZARD. SHE. 
 
 MONTEZUMA'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ELISSA; OR, THE DOOM OF ZIMBABWE. 
 
 SWALLOW, with 12 full-page Illustrations, $1.50. 
 DOCTOR THERNE. A story. Crown 8vo, $1.00. 
 LYSBETH. A Tale of the Dutch. Illustrated, $1.50. 
 THE PEARL MAIDEN. Illustrated, $1.50. 
 STELLA FREGELIUS. $1.50 [Shortly. 
 
 By Edna Lyall. 
 
 DORF.EN. The Story of a Singer. Crown 8vo, cloth, $1.50. 
 WAYFARING MEN. Crown 8vo, cloth, $1.50. 
 HOPE THE HERMIT. Crown 8vo, cloth, $1.50. 
 IN SPITE OF ALL. A Novel. Crown 8vo, $1.50. 
 THE HINDERERS. Crown 8vo, $1.00. 
 
 By Mrs. Walford. 
 
 Crown 8vo, buckram cloth, each, $1.50. 
 
 THE MATCHMAKER THE INTRUDERS. 
 
 IVA KILDARE. A Matrimonial Problem. THE ARCHDEACON. 
 
 LEDDY MARGET. ONE OF OURSELVES. 
 
 SIR PATRICK : THE PUDDOCK. CHARLOTTE. 
 
 THE STAY AT HOMES.
 
 By R Baghot. 
 
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 By H. C. Bailey. 
 
 MY LADY OF ORANGE. Illustrated. Crovwi 8vo, cloth, $1.25. 
 KARL OF BREACH. Crown 8vo, $1.50. 
 
 By Phyllis Bottome. 
 
 LIFE THE INTERPRETER. A Story Based Upon Life and Work in 
 the East End of London. Crown 8vo, $1.50. 
 
 By J. Storer Clouston. 
 
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 By Arnold Davenport. 
 
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 By Miss L. Dougall. 
 
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 By M. E. Francis. 
 
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 PASTORALS OF DORSET. Crown 8vo, $1.50. 
 i THE MANOR FARM. Crown 8vo, $1.50. 
 
 CHRISTIAN THAL. Crown 8vo, $1.50. [Shortly. 
 
 By Lady Mabel Howard. 
 
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 CYNTHIA'S WAY. Crown 8vo, $1.50. 
 
 THE THOUSAND EUGENIAS. Crown 8vo, $1.50. 
 
 By Rev. P. A. Sheehan. 
 
 LUKE DELMEGE. Crown 8vo, $1.50. 
 
 By 5. Levett- Yeats. 
 
 THE CHEVALIER D'AURIAC. Crown 8vo, cloth, $1.25. 
 THE HEART OF DENISE. With Frontispiece. Cloth, $1.25. 
 THE LORD PROTECTOR. With Frontispiece. $1.50. 
 
 By J. H. Yoxall. 
 
 THE ROMMANY STONE. Crown 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.50.
 
 IN KINGS' BYWAYS 
 
 By STANLEY J. WEYMAN 
 
 AUTHOR OF " A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," " COUNT HANNIBAL," ETC., ETC. 
 
 With a Frontispiece by George Varlan. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 ornamental, $ 1 .50 
 
 ' Capital short stories of France, written in Mr. Weyman's well-known 
 vein." OUTLOOK, NEW YORK. 
 
 '* . . . The tales and episodes are all so good that it is hardly fair to 
 Mr. Weyman to say some are better than others." TIMES, BOSTON. 
 
 "... About this author's stories there is a dash, and a nerve, and a 
 swing, and a ' go ' that no other surpasses though he has many imitators. . . . 
 The opening story, ' Flore,' is marvelously intense in plot, and its execution, 
 with a play of action and incident and thrilling situation that is incessant. Every 
 story in the book, for that matter, is a masterpiece." COMMERCIAL, BUFFALO. 
 
 "The twelve stories . . . are full of that romantic charm which he has 
 communicated to his more elaborate works of historical fiction. . . . His 
 historical portraits are never overdone, they are always sketched with equal 
 restraint and precision. The book is abundantly entertaining." 
 
 NEW YORK TRIBUNE. 
 
 " Stanley Weyman was the leader in the general revival of the historical and 
 romantic novel, and he is still one of the best writers in this field. . . . 'In 
 Kings' Byways' are stories of different periods, but Mr. Weyman is always at 
 his best when dealing with Henry of Navarre or the generation just before. In 
 his hands Old France lives again, picturesque and absorbing. All these stories 
 . . . are finished, artistic and gracefully told. The novelette ' For the 
 Cause' is probably the most powerful thing Mr. Weyman has ever written." 
 
 NEW YORK WORLD. 
 
 "... Mr. Weyman's latest book, ' In Kings' Byways,' is inevitably of 
 the class that entertains. And that it does entertain is sufficient justification fur 
 its writing." TRANSCRIPT, BOSTON. 
 
 "It is unnecessary to say that these tales are worth the reading. They re- 
 late with a quality that cannot be denied the highest praise, tales of love and 
 war and court and highway. Not one of them is dull, not one to be passed over 
 as not worthy of attention. All are dramatic, all good in form, and if one must 
 be selected from out the rest as best, 'The House on the Wall' is chosen." 
 
 COURIER-JOURNAL, LOUISVILLE, KY. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YO^lK
 
 COUNT HANNIBAL 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE COURT OF FRANCE 
 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," "UNDER THE RED ROBE," 
 "THE CASTLE INN," ETC., ETC. 
 
 With Frontispiece. Crown Svo, cloth, ornamental, $1 .SO 
 
 " It is very seldom that one runs across a historical novel the plot of which is 
 so ably sustained, the characters so strongly drawn, the local color or atmosphere 
 so satisfactory. . . . ' Count Hannibal ' is the strongest and most interest- 
 ing novel as yet written by this popular author." BOSTON TIMES. 
 
 " Stanley J. Weyman has had hundreds of imitators since he wrote 'A Gen- 
 tleman of France,' but no man has yet surpassed him. I know of no book in 
 the whole list of popular favorites that holds one's interest more intensely or 
 moie continuously than ' Count Hannibal ' does. And what an insistent, throat- 
 gripping interest it is ! 
 
 What is the use of hoping for a decadence of the craze for historical 
 romances so long as the public is fed on books like this ? Such a story has zest 
 for the most jaded palate ; nay, it can hold the interest even of a book reviewer. 
 From the first page to the last there is not a moment when one's desire to finish 
 the book weakens. Along with the ordinary interest of curiosity there goes that 
 of a delightful and unique love story involving no little skill in character deline- 
 ation." RECORD- HERALD, CHICAGO. 
 
 " A spirited, tersely interesting and most vivid story of scenes and incidents 
 and portrayals of various characters that lived and fought and bled in the lurid 
 days that saw the massacre of St. Bartholomew. . . . This is Mr. Weyman 's 
 most graphic and realistic novel." PICAYUNE, NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 " Mr. Weyman has surpassed himself in 'Count Hannibal.' The scene of 
 the story is laid chiefly in Paris, at the time of the massacre of St. Bartholo- 
 mew. . . . We are made to grasp the soul of Count Hannibal and are tacitly 
 asked to let its envelope take care of itself. . . . Never has Mr. Weyman 
 achieved, in fact, a higher degree of verisimilitude. Count Hannibal may leave 
 us breathless with his despotic methods, but he is not abnormal ; he is one of the 
 Frenchmen who shared the temper which made the St. Bartholomew, and he is in- 
 tensely human too . . . how the tangle of events in which he and half a 
 dozen others are involved is straightened out we refrain from disclosing. The 
 reader who once takes up this book will want to find all this out for himself." 
 
 NEW YORK TRIBUNE. 
 
 "A story in Mr. Weyman's best vein, with the crimson horror of St. Bar- 
 tholomew as an historical setting. ' Count Hannibal ' is a worthy companion of 
 1 A Gentleman of France ' and ' The Red Cockade," and Mr. Weyman's hand is 
 as cunning as ever in fashioning a romance which will send a thrill through the 
 most jaded reader and keep even a reviewer from his bed. " 
 
 BOOKMAN, LONDON. 
 
 " The book is rapid, is absorbing, and the hero is a distinctly interesting 
 character in himself, apart from his deeds of daring. " ATHENAEUM . 
 
 " Mr. Stanley Weyman's ' Count Hannibal ' is fully worthy of his great repu- 
 tation the style is brilliant, easy and clear ; the invention of subject and the 
 turns of fortune in the story surprising; above all, the subtle painting of a man 
 and a woman's heart is done with inexhaustible knowledge." GUARDIAN. 
 
 " A picturesque and vigorous romance. The narrative will be followed with 
 breathless interest." TIMES, LONDON. 
 
 LONGMANS, GBEEN, & 00,, 91-93 KTTH AVENUE, NEW YORK,
 
 SOPHIA 
 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," "UNDER THE RED KOBE," ITC. 
 
 With 12 Illustrations by C. Hammond. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 ornamental, S1.50. 
 
 " Mr. Weyman's new romance illustrates the types and manners of fashion- 
 able London society in the year 1742. In everything that means the revival of 
 an historical atmosphere it is skilful, and, on the whole, just. The characters 
 also are well realized. . . . ' Sophia ' is a decidedly interesting 1 novel. . . . 
 The tale moves swiftly, hurrying on from the town to the heath, from hatred to 
 love, from imprisonment on bread and water to diamonds . . . and a dozen 
 other things. Sophia, the heroine, is a bundle of girlish foolishness and charms. 
 'Sophia,' the book, is a bundle of more or less extraordinary episodes woven 
 into a story in the most beguiling manner." NEW YORK TRIBUNE, April, 1900. 
 
 "It is a good, lively, melodramatic story of love and adventure . . . it is 
 safe to say that nobody who reads the lively episode in the first chapter will 
 leave the book unfinished, because there is not a moment's break in the swift 
 and dramatic narrative until the last page. . . . The dramatic sequence is 
 nearly faultless." TRIBUNE, CHICAGO. 
 
 "Sophia, with her mistakes, her adventures, and her final surrender; Sophia 
 moving among the eighteenth century world of fashion at Vauxhall ; Sophia fly- 
 ing through the country roads, pursued by an adventurer, and Sophia captured 
 by her husband, transport one so far from this work-a-day life that the reader 
 comes back surprised to find that this prosaic world is still here after that too- 
 brief excursion into the realm of fancy." 
 
 NEW YORK COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER. 
 
 "The gem of the book is its description of the long coach-ride made by 
 Sophia to Sir Hervey's home in Sussex, the attempt made by highwaymen to 
 rob her, and her adventures at the paved ford and in the house made silent by 
 smallpox, where she took refuge. Tnis section of the story is almost as breath- 
 less as Smollett. ... In the general firmness of touch, and sureness of 
 historic portrayal, the book deserves high praise." BUFFALO EXPRESS. 
 
 " ' Sophia ' contains, in its earlier part, a series of incidents that is, we believe, 
 the most ingenious yet planned by its author. . . . The adventure develops 
 and grows, the tension increases with each page, to such an extent that the 
 hackneyed adjective, 'breathless,' finds an appropriate place." 
 
 NEW YORK MAIL AND EXPRESS. 
 
 " ' Sophia,' his latest, is also one of his best. A delightful spirit of adventure 
 hangs about the story ; something interesting happens in every chapter. The 
 admirable ease of style, the smooth and natural dialogue, the perfect adjust- 
 ment of events and sequences conceal all the usual obtiusive mechanism, and 
 hold the curiosity of the reader throughout the development of an excellent plot 
 and genuine people." PUBLIC LEDGER, PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
 " Those who read Mr. Stanley J. Weyman's ' Castle Inn ' with delight, will 
 find in his ' Sophia ' an equally brilliant performance, in which they are intro- 
 duced to another part of the Georgian era. . . . Mr. Weyman knows the 
 eighteenth century from top to bottom, and could any time be more suitable 
 for the writer of romance ? . . . There is only one way to define the subtle 
 charm and distinction of this book, and that is to say that it deserves a place on 
 the book-shelf beside those dainty volumes in which Mr. Austin Dobson has em- 
 balmed the very spirit of the period of the hoop and the patch, the coffee-house, 
 and the sedan chair. And could Mr. Stanley Weyman ask for better company 
 for his books than that ?" EVENING SUN, NEW YORK. 
 
 "Contains what is probably the most ingenious and exciting situation even 
 he has ever invented. A BOOK BUYEK, NEW YORK. 
 
 LONGMANS, GBEEN. & 00., 91-93 PITTS AVE., NEW YORK.
 
 LYSBETH 
 
 A TALE OF THE DUTCH 
 
 BY H. RIDER HAGGARD 
 
 AUTHOR OF "SHE," "KING SOLOMON'S MINES," "SWALLOW," ETC., ETC. 
 
 With 26 Full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 
 Ornamental, $1.5O 
 
 " Mr. Rider Haggard at his very best. To give an adequate idea of the story 
 of ' Lysbeth ' we should require many columns for the simple catalogue of the 
 adventures and perils and fights and escapes which make up one of the most 
 vigorous and exciting tales ever written." THE BOOKMAN, LONDON. 
 
 "It is a thrilling tale of adventure and sacrifice, with a substantial love 
 element and strong side lights upon the history of the people of the Netherlands 
 during the period in which the masterly drawn characters move. It is told in a 
 captivating style with never-flagging interest, and is by all odds the best story, 
 as it will probably be the most popular, that this author has written." 
 
 NORTH AMERICAN, PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 " ' Lysbeth ' is one of the most complete romances that have been written ; 
 , . . it is one of the most interesting . . . stories of the Spanish misrule 
 tn the Netherlands. It includes all the elements for romantic narrative 
 affection, peril, bravery and villainy, and each delineated with impressiveness 
 that moves the reader to alternate emotions of admiration and detestation." 
 
 BOSTON COURIER. 
 
 " . . . May be safely called the best story of this popular writer ol 
 adventures. His vivid and audacious style of picturing thrilling and improb- 
 able adventures is given full play. The historical background adds much to 
 the interest of the story if one is not interested merely in adventures. . . . 
 The illustrations of the book are numerous and excellent. " 
 
 BOSTON TRANSCRIPT. 
 
 "... A novel which is well worth reading. Haggard is master of an 
 inimitable style. He is a wonderful painter of battles, and the description of 
 the flight with Brant's jewels down the canal and out to sea is one of the best 
 descriptions of a fight ever written. * Lysbeth ' is a novel which sustains the 
 interest from the first to the last chapter." SAN FRANCISCO BULLETIN. 
 
 " Here is a really strong piece of work, and one in which Rider Haggard 
 appears on an entirely new ground. . . . The historical background is 
 sufficient in itself to make a story of entrancing interest, and the two or three 
 romances which have been interwoven with it make the book one of the most 
 notable even among the many excellent works of recent historical fiction. The 
 Spanish and the Dutch types are both true to life, and the historical setting is 
 remarkably accurate and true. Rider Haggard will indeed win more lasting 
 renown by his work on ' Lysbeth ' than by his wierd tales which were the talk of 
 a day and then forgotten." LIVING CHURCH. 
 
 LONGMANS, GBEEN, & 00,, 91-93 HTTH AVENUE, NEW YOEK,
 
 PEARL-MAIDEN 
 
 A TALE OF THE FALL OF JERUSALEM 
 By H. RIDER HAGGARD 
 
 With 26 Full-page Illustrations by Byam Shaw 
 Crown, 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.50 
 
 "... The story is of absorbing interest. It is very seldom 
 that one runs across an historical novel, the plot of which is so ably 
 sustained. Something interesting happens in every chapter. There 
 are some delightful love passages, for no novel can be considered 
 perfect without a little of that. The story has zest and is full of 
 adventure. The style is brilliant, easy and clear. The narrative 
 will be followed with breathless interest. The book is beautifully 
 printed, handsomely bound, and profusely illustrated. . . ." 
 
 EAU CLAIRE LEADER, Wis. 
 
 " . . . It is one of the best books that Mr. Haggard has 
 written for several years. ... It contains two or three scenes 
 of uncommon strength ; the arena scene, with the Christian martyrs, 
 in the opening pages, the sale of Roman slave girls, near the close. 
 It is not a book which can be read through in a brief half hour or 
 two, and it does not permit the attention to wander. Altogether it 
 is a book which deserves a wider notice." 
 
 COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER, NEW YORK. 
 
 "... there is vigor, charm, and doubtless historical value 
 in the pictures which Mr. Haggard draws of dramatic events and 
 splendid pageants that will never lose interest and significance to a 
 world yet shaken by their influence." OUTLOOK, NEW YORK. 
 
 " . . . 'Pearl Maiden* must be ranked among his best 
 books. It is full of adventure, of terrible dangers met on the battle- 
 field and elsewhere ... is from beginning to end absorbing. 
 Never has Mr. Haggard been more inventive or more skilful. His 
 plot is well constructed, and he controls the evolution of the story 
 with the art that leaves an impression of absolute naturalness. We 
 must add a good word for the numerous illustrations by Mr. Byam 
 Shaw. They are cleverly drawn with the pen, but they are even 
 more to be praised for the freshness and variety with which they 
 have been designed." NEW YORK TRIBUNE. 
 
 " . . . ' Pearl Maiden ' is a more convincing story than any 
 he has written about imaginary kingdoms . . . there is no 
 reason why it should not rival the popularity of ' She ' and ' King 
 Solomon's Mines,' and in any event it will be sure to find many fas- 
 cinated readers. ... It is the best story Mr. Haggard has 
 written in recent years." REPUBLICAN, SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVE., NEW YORK
 
 THE ROMMANY STONE 
 
 By J. H. YOXALL, M. P. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.5O 
 
 "A story of gypsy life and enchantment, the scene of which is laid in Eng- 
 land . . . well told, having the sort of interest that awakes wonder, and 
 keeps it awake." THE OUTLOOK, NEW YORK. 
 
 "A romance quite worthy of being classed with ' Lorna Doone.' " 
 
 MORNING LEADER. 
 
 " . . : Is good beyond all cavil It is not great ; it makes no pretension 
 of being great ; but it will probably be alive when most of the recent ' great ' 
 works are dead. There are three or four scenes that will bite deep into any 
 imagination that is not adamantean proof." CHICAGO EVENING POST. 
 
 '' The fascination in all that belongs to gypsy life exerts itself powerfully in 
 The Rommany Stone.' . . . The story is skillfully told, the most note- 
 worthy feature being its admirable literary construction." 
 
 THE CHURCHMAN, NEW YORK. 
 
 THE THOUSAND EUGENIAS 
 
 By MRS. A. SIDGWICK 
 AUTHOR OF " CYNTHIA'S WAY," ETC. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, $1.5O 
 
 '. . . We read on to the end and find interest in every page of the book 
 which in the end is the best test of a story." NEW YORK TIMES. 
 
 ". . . A volume of short and truly humorous tales. . . . One might 
 be tempted to say that the mantle of Stockton had fallen upon this particular 
 woman, or that also owing to some atavistic freak, the very spirit of the author 
 of ' Mrs. Leeks and Mrs. Aleshine ' had directed the creator of the heroine of 
 ' The Thousand Eugenias ' in her portrayal of the luckless maiden who by no 
 chance ever even stumbled upon the proper and correct and sensible thing to 
 do."r COURIER-JOURNAL, LOUISVILLE, KY. 
 
 "... It deals in a vivid and picturesque way with the theft of a stock 
 certificate . . . the story proceeds cleverly and convincingly to a dramatic 
 conclusion." THE PICAYUNE, NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 "... Appetizing in brisk and amusing originality, the book is to be com- 
 mended to those who seek pleasure through the medium of sparkling sketches 
 of the lighter sides of character." CHICAGO EVENING POST. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
 
 LUKE DELMEGE 
 
 By P. A. SHEEHAN, Parish Priest, Doneraile, Co. Cork 
 
 AUTHOR OF " MY NEW CURATE " 
 
 Crown 8vo, $1.5O 
 
 " This is an exceedingly powerful and absorbing book. Beginning with the 
 true artistic quiet and restraint, it strengthens and broadens in power and inter- 
 est until it moves on like a great procession. . . . It is a novel but it is more 
 than that. It is a great sermon, a great lesson, almost a great drama. . . . 
 We cordially commend ' Luke Delmege ' for its lofty purpose and thought, its 
 adequate diction, and its high incentive . . . there is in it an occasional 
 touch of humor which is very welcome and which is truly Irish in its nature. 
 Altogether we consider ' Luke Delmege ' the most notable religious novel that 
 has been written within a year." THE SUN, BALTIMORE, MD. 
 
 " One of the triumphs among the works of fiction. . . . It is an extremely 
 interesting tale of Irish life, full of profound erudition, and withal replete with 
 incident and pathos." MONITOR, ST. JOHN, N. B. 
 
 "'Luke Delmege ' is in some respects a greater accomplishment than its 
 predecessor. If it has not such exuberance of humor, its theme is more vital 
 and the work itself more substantial. It is a book which philosophers and se- 
 rious students will enjoy almost as thoroughly as the chronic novel-reader. . . . 
 No other author has given us such a series oi clerical portraits ... a story 
 ol which Catholics may well be proud. It is of classic quality, and generations 
 hence it will be read, enjoyed, and lauded as one of the masterpieces of English 
 fiction." AVE MARIA, NOTRE DAME, IND. 
 
 " This is loftier work than ' My New Curate,' and its influence will be stronger 
 and grander. It is a wonderful story, with something in its passionate pleading 
 for the supremacy of the mystical that recalls a mediaeval saint emerging from 
 his solitude to denounce the world and to summon the few elect to the business 
 of their salvation. . . . We freely pass upon the book the judgment that it 
 is worthy to live with the very best we have of noble and uplifting fiction." 
 
 CATHOLIC NEWS, N. Y. 
 
 " Father Sheehan's latest work is in many respects his best. It is a more 
 pretentious literary effort and a more finished work than ' My New Curate.' 
 .... His characters are strong and lifelike. All things considered ' Luke 
 Delmege ' is one of the best things that have been published lately." 
 
 ROSARY MAGAZINE, N. Y. 
 
 " We have just read 'Luke Delmege,' and of all the books of the year, ser- 
 mon or song or story, we put it first. ... In this new work he adds a new 
 glory to his fame a place in the hearts of his countrymen forever." 
 
 FREEMAN'S JOURNAL, N. Y. 
 
 LONGMANS, GBEEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YOBt
 
 MY LADY OF ORANGE 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE NETHERLANDS IN THE DAYS OF ALVA 
 
 BY H. C. BAILEY 
 
 With 8 Illustrations by G. P. Jacomb-Hood 
 Crown 8vo, $1.25 
 
 11 There is not a line of padding in the story. It moves swiftly and steadily 
 from start to finish. Incident follows incident in vivid succession, but the narra- 
 tive, while rapid, is never complex or incoherent The hero is a soldier of 
 sturdy pattern ; and My Lady of Orange is a woman worthy of the hairbreadth 
 'scapes endured for her safety and happiness. The pictures by Mr. Jacomb- 
 Hood are superb." BEACON, BOSTON. 
 
 " . . . Told with a vigorous brusqueness and Torce that are in keeping 
 with the character of the doughty soldier of fortune as he reveals himself to be. 
 There is plenty of fighting and deeds of daring. . . . The heroine, 
 Mistress Gabrielle de St. Trond, is a brave, winsome maid, with courage and 
 wit and womanly sweetness too. . . . The story moves forward with a fine 
 impetuosity and dash, and speeds briskly in the telling, as befits a tale of 
 action.' 1 BROOKLYN TIMKS. 
 
 11 Mr. Bailey has written a rattling good story of Alva and the war in the 
 Netherlands. . . . Mr. Bailey has caught the atmosphere of the period very 
 successfully. The style of the narrative is just archaic enough without being 
 pedantic, and the spirit and character of the narrator are very clearly and dra- 
 matically portrayed. In this respect the novel will rank high among recent 
 books of its kind." NEWS AND COURIER, CHARLESTON. 
 
 " The soldier of fortune has never been more exactly and strongly delineated 
 than he is in ' My Lady of Orange.' It is replete with thrilling escapades, and 
 every character is one of interest clearly delineated. An excellent romance 
 skilfully described." BOSTON COURIER. 
 
 " We have to thank Mr. Bailey, whose name is new to us, for creating such 
 a womanly heroine, for such an entertaining and faithful reproduction of 
 old-time Flemish life, and for making his characters think and talk, and now 
 and then swear, like human men and women and not like literary puppets." 
 
 MAIL AND EXPRESS, NEW YORK. 
 
 " Here is a natural, tender, humorous, beautiful and artistic romance, told 
 autobiographically by an Englishman, who was a soldier of Orange. We 
 receive here graphic accounts of Holland life, and an easy, human kind of 
 narrative which will interest men and women alike. The value of the tale is 
 enhanced by eight full-pa^e illustrations.'' GLOUCESTER DAILY TIMES. 
 
 LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00,, 91-93 PITTH AVENUE, NEW YOKE.
 
 KARL OF ERBACH 
 
 A TALE OF LICHTENSTEIN AND SOLGAU 
 By H. C. BAILEY 
 
 Crown, 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.50 
 
 " This is a capital story of old Lichenstein and Solgau. . . . 
 It is a vivid, pleasing romance, full of the aroma of German legend 
 and war." CHRONICLE-TELEGRAPH, PITTSBURG. 
 
 "... The story is well told, and is one of the best of 
 recent historical novels." REPUBLICAN, SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 
 
 " There is something rare and preciously refreshing in these 
 days in a hero of historical romance who is not ' spilin' for a fight,' 
 and we encounter just such a hero in ' Karl of Erbach.' . . . Some 
 notable historic figures move across its pages, and the spirited 
 action carries with it a suggestion of the making of history which 
 intensifies the novel's impressiveness. At the same time, espe- 
 cially in the lighter sentimental aspect of the story, and in the 
 delineation of such characters as the delightful Comte de Lormont 
 and the charming Lady Amaryllis, the author reveals a delicacy of 
 touch which insures pleasing results for the reader's satisfac- 
 tion. . . . " REPUBLIC, ST. Louis, Mo. 
 
 "... a rattling tale of love and war, of a stronger fibre 
 and with characters more natural and human than can be said 
 of most tales of its kind. . . . But ' Karl of Erbach ' is very good; 
 the action is spirited." NEW YORK COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER. 
 
 " The story is admirably well constructed, free from extraneous 
 matter and moving swiftly. The succession of incidents is rapid. 
 Mr. Bailey's men are dashing and brave, and his women are charm- 
 ing and captivating. What more could anyone want in a romance? 
 
 PHILADELPHIA PRESS. 
 
 " How Karl of Erbach saves Solgau and restores the country to 
 peace and plenty, and how he wins and marries the Lady Yoland is 
 the matter of the tale. Mr. Bailey has style, dramatic instinct, and 
 delicate feeling, and these combine to make his book distinctive and 
 of far more than average interest." PUBLIC OPINION, NEW YORK. 
 
 " Mr. Bailey has given us an admirable story of life in the 
 provinces of Lichtenstein and Solgau, during the Thirty Years' 
 
 War The story abounds in action that stirs the blood 
 
 to healthy circulation. It is well planned, well written and will be 
 well received." CLEVELAND WORLD. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVE., NEW YORK
 
 THE LORD PROTECTOR 
 
 A STORY 
 By S. LEVETT YEATS 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE CHEVALIER D'AURIAC," " THE HEART OF DKNISE " ETC. 
 
 With Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $ 1 .50 
 
 In this story the author has taken a new departure and has portrayed as his 
 central character one of the most striking figures in English history. The picture 
 of Cromwell differs somewhat from the ordinarily accepted estimate of the Pro- 
 tector, and is an interesting one from that point of view. Other great figures of 
 the time are necessarily brought into the story, which has its love interest in the 
 fortunes of the heiress of Coombe Royal. 
 
 "... This is an interesting tale . . . dramatic and even tragic, but 
 there are some humorous touches here and there, and the tone throughout is 
 rendered the more attractive through the author's skill in handling the sylvan 
 charms of the countryside in Old England." NEW YORK TRIBUNE. 
 
 " A really good story of love and adventure in the days of the Cavalier and 
 Roundheads. . . . There is dash, spirit and charm in the story that makes 
 it thoroughly readable." CHRONICLE-TELEGRAPH, PITTSBURG. 
 
 " An excellent story . . ."COMMERCIAL, BUFFALO. 
 
 ". . . Is an exceedingly interesting romance. . . . The story is well 
 told, contains sufficient of romance, adventure and daring to hold the keenest 
 interest throughout. The book deserves a prominent place in the estimation of 
 lovers of historic romance." DAILY WORLD, CLEVELAND. 
 
 " . . , It is an interesting story from first page to last, moreover a 
 wholesome one which no one need hesitate to recommend." 
 
 HERALD, ONEONTA, N. Y. 
 
 " . . . The book is well worth reading and holds the interest of the 
 reader from beginning to end . . ." AMERICAN, BALTIMORE. 
 
 " . . . There is action on every page of the book ; love, fighting, and some 
 very good humor. The author has a most pleasant style, and wastes no words 
 in the telling of his story, which will interest all sorts and conditions of men and 
 women. It is a book full of enjoyment." NASHVILLE AMERICAN. 
 
 " There is the same vividness of conception and interesting historical detail 
 that have marked the earlier work of this author." THE DIAL, CHICAGO. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
 
 THE CHEVALIER D'AURIAC. 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 BY S. LEVETT YEATS. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE HONOUR OF SAVKLLI," ETC., ETC. 
 1 2mo, cloth, ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 "The story is full of action, it is alive from cover to cover, and is so compact with thrill* 
 ing adventure that there is no room for a dull page. The chevalier tells his own story, but 
 he is the most charming of egoists. He wins our sympathies from the outset by his boyish 
 naivete, his downright manliness and bravery. . . . Not only has Mr. Yeats written an 
 excellent tale of adventure, but he has shown a close study of character which does not bor- 
 row merely from the trappings of historical actors, but which denotes a keen knowledge of 
 human nature, and a shrewd insight into the workings of human motive*. . . . The 
 fashion of the period is kept well in mind, the style of writing has just that touch of old. 
 fashioned formality which serves to veil the past from the present, and to throw the light* 
 and shadows into a harmony of tone. . . . The work has literary quality of a genuine 
 sort in it, which raises it above a numerous host of its fellows in kind. ' 
 
 BOOKMAN, NEW YORK. 
 
 "... A story of Huguenot days, brim full of action that takes shape in plots, sud- 
 den surprises, fierce encounters, and cunning intrigues. The author is so saturated with the 
 times of which he writes that the story is realism itself. . . . The story is brilliant and 
 thrilling, and whoever sits down to give it attention will reach the last page with regret" 
 
 GLOBE, BOSTON. 
 
 "... A tale of more than usual interest and of genuine literary merit . . . 
 The characters and scenes in a sense seem far removed, yet they live in our hearts and seem 
 contemporaneous through the skill and philosophic treatment of the author. Those men and 
 women seem akin to us; they are flesh and blood, and are impelled by human motives as we 
 are. One cannot follow the fortunes of this hero without feeling refreshed and benefited." 
 
 GLOBE-DEMOCRAT, ST. Louis. 
 
 "A book that may be recommended to all those who appreciate a good, hearty, rollicking 
 story of adventure, with lots of fierce fighting and a proper proportion of love-making. . . . 
 There is in his novel no more history than is necessary, and no tedious detail ; it ii a story 
 inspired by, but not slavishly following, history. . . . The book is full of incident, and 
 from the first chapter to the last the action never flags. ... In the Chevalier the author 
 has conceived a sympathetic character, for d' Auriac is more human and less of a puppet than 
 most heroes of historical novels, and consequently there are few readers who will not find en- 
 joyment in the story of his thrilling adventures. . . . This book should be read by all 
 who love a good story of adventures. There is not a dull page in it." NEW YORK Sun. 
 
 "A capital story of the Dumas- Weyman order. . . . The first chapters bring one 
 right into the thick of the story, and from thence on the interest is unflagging. The Chevm- 
 lier himself is an admirably studied character, whose straightforwardness and simplicity, 
 bravery, and impulsive ana reckless chivalry, win the reader's sympathy. D'Auriac has 
 something of the intense vitality of Dumas's heroes, and the delightful improbabilities through 
 which he passes so invincibly nave a certain human quality which renders them akin to our 
 day. Mr. Levett Yeats has done better in this book than in anything else he has written." 
 
 PICAYUNE, NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 " The interest in the story does not lag for an instant ; all is life and action. The pict- 
 uresque historical setting is admirably painted, and the characters are skilfully drawn, espe- 
 cially that of the king, a true monarch, a brave soldier, and a gentleman. The Chevalier if 
 the typical hero of romance, fearing nothing save a stain on his honor, and with such a hero 
 there can not but be vigor and excitement in every page of the story." 
 
 MAIL AND EXPRESS, NEW YORK. 
 
 'Asa ! 
 Three Mi 
 
 " We find all the fascination of mediaeval France, which have made Mr. Weyman's stories 
 snch general favorites. . . . We do not see how any intelligent reader can take it up 
 without keen enjoyment" LIVING CHURCH, CHICAGO. 
 
 i story of adventure, pure and simple, after the type originally seen in Dumai's 
 luBketeers,' the book is well worthy of high praise. OUTLOOK, NEW YORK. 
 
 LONGMANS, GBEEN, & 00., 91-93 PIPTH AVE., NEW YOBK.
 
 BY THE RAMPARTS OF JEZREEL 
 
 BY ARNOLD DAVENPORT 
 
 With Frontispiece by Lancelot Speed 
 Crown, 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.50 
 
 "... The merits of the book are the careful details of 
 ancient life and dress, manners, and customs; the swift onward 
 movement of the narrative, the breathless ness of conflict, the 
 illusion of reality that conveys a thrill of suspense, even in the face 
 of palpable absurdities. And beyond a doubt the character of 
 Jezebel, as an incarnation of feminine evil, is somewhat more than 
 cleverly drawn. To a certain degree she is a creation, a novel bit 
 of character painting. " COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER, NEW YORK. 
 
 " The novel is exciting, is strongly written .... 
 
 The story of the infamous Queen Jezebel furnishes the materials for 
 
 a dramatic narrative of unusual strength " 
 
 BROOKLYN DAILY EAGLE. 
 
 "... The romance is interesting in plot and is replete with 
 action." BALTIMORE AMERICAN. 
 
 " . . . There is a wealth of imagery in the story and a well- 
 sustained plot keeps the reader interested to the end. . . ." 
 
 ST. Louis GLOBE-DEMOCRAT. 
 
 " A fascinating tale of the days of Queen Jezebel, in which the 
 great queen is portrayed with strength and vividness. The in- 
 trigues carried on by her form the thrilling interest which relaxes 
 hardly a paragraph throughout. . . ." 
 
 CHURCH REVIEW, HARTFORD, CT. 
 
 "... must be classed as a notable and forceful novel. The 
 plot is woven about the insurrection which resulted in the proclama- 
 tion as King of Israel of Jehu, son of Nimshi, and the killing of 
 King Jehoram and Jezebel, the 'Lady of Enchantment' and of dark 
 deeds. . . . Plots and counterplots, giving rise to numerous 
 tense and dramatic situations. . . ." NEW YORK TIMES. 
 
 " The narrative is interesting, dramatic and full of 
 
 information concerning the lives of the people who dwelt immedi- 
 ately under the shadow of Divine law." 
 
 PITTSBURG CHRONICLE-TELEGRAPH. 
 
 "... an unusually striking novel, and it presents the his- 
 toric scenes to the reader in a very impressive manner. . . ." 
 
 LITERARY WORLD, BOSTON. 
 
 " ... an entertaining and instructive story of the reign of 
 Jehoram and Jezebel, and of their downfall at the hands oi Jehu." 
 
 REVIEW OF REVIEWS, NEW YORK. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.. 91-93 FIFTH AVE., NEW YORK
 
 HOPE THE HERMIT 
 
 A ROMANCE OF BORROWDALE. 
 
 BY EDNA LYALL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " DOREEN," " WAYFARING MEN," BTC. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, ornamental, $1 .50. 
 
 "When Edna Lyall wrote this book she stepped into the front rank of living novelists. 
 It exemplifies the finest type of historical romance, which is, of course, the highest form of 
 fictious literature. The scene of the story is one of the loveliest which could have been 
 chosen, the lake region of England. . . . Her story is full of life and incident, and at 
 the same time conveys lessons of high morality. . . . Altogether this is one of the 
 healthiest, purest, best, and most powerful romances in the whole range of English 
 literature. LIVING CHURCH, CHICAGO. 
 
 " Miss Bayly ... by careful examination of her authorities has been able to con- 
 struct an uncommonly good romance of the days when brother's hand was against brother. 
 It is distinctly good work a stirring story and in every way creditable to the author." 
 
 PUBLIC OPINION, NEW YORK. 
 
 "The characters are well drawn, never mere puppets. There is a coherent, well- 
 thought-out, and carefully developed plot, and the style is clear and straightforward. The 
 story is wholesome and interesting, and much better worth reading than a good many of 
 the so-called 'stories of adventure.' " BEACON, BOSTON. 
 
 " There are few novelists of the present day whose writings are better known and liked 
 than those of Edna Lyall. They are always clean, pure and wholesome, and delightful read- 
 ing. The latest, ' Hope the Hermit,' deals with her favorite period, the seventeenth century. 
 We have the revolution, the accession of William and Mary, and the Jacobite plots, and 
 among the real characters introduced are Archbishop Tillotson, Lady Temple and George 
 Fox, the Quaker. . . . The story ends as all love stories should, to be perfectly satisfactory 
 to the average novel reader, and ' Hope the Hermit ' will find many readers, who are fond 
 of a good story well told." ADVERTISER, PORTLAND, ME. 
 
 " She is quite at home with her theme. . . . It is a fine historical novel, admirably 
 written, and one of her best books." LITERARY WORLD, BOSTON. 
 
 "... is one of those delightful stories that have made the author very popular 
 and that one can take up with the absolute certainty of finding nothing unclean or repel- 
 lent. It is a clear, strong, well-designed, refreshing story, based upon scenes and events 
 in the days of William and Mary of England days when a man could hardly trust his own 
 brother, and when sons were on one side in a rebellion, and the father on the other. . . . 
 Many of the situations are very exciting, the characters are admirably drawn, and the whole 
 telling of the story is entertaining, grateful and artistic. We regard it as quite as good as 
 'Donovan,' and the other popular stories by the same author." BUFFALO COMMERCIAL. 
 
 " Miss Bayly has kept her pages clean and white. The book is preeminently suitable 
 to the shelves of a circulating library, as well as to the reading-table under the family lamp. 
 It not only entertains, but gives historical data in a pleasantly impressive manner . . . 
 we have, notwithstanding a few extravagances, a very fascinating story, enlivened by the 
 admitted license of the writer of romance." HOME JOURNAL, NEW YOKK. 
 
 " This latest work of Miss Bayly has all the qualities which have won her popularity in 
 the past. The book should have a considerable vogue, appealing, as it does, not only to 
 those who like quick action, plenty of adventure, and much picturesqueness, but also to 
 those who have a cultivated literary palate." DISPATCH, RICHMOND, VA. 
 
 "... is one of the best specimens of Edna Lyall's talent for telling a good story 
 in engaging style. . . . The reader's attention is held throughout." 
 
 PRESS, PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 " There is much in this book to commend it. It is original and has great activity. 
 . . . Miss Lyall possesses literary talent, and her style is clear, and, to one unfamiliar 
 with her writings, ihis latest production will be a delightful treat. The reader will put it 
 down delighted with the story, refreshed by the study of the merits and faults of its charac- 
 ters, and cogitating upon the great events which, during the making of English history, 
 followed quickly one upon another toward the close of the seventeenth century." 
 
 PICAYUNE, NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 PITTH AYE., NEW YORK.
 
 IN SPITE OF ALL 
 
 By EDNA LYALL 
 
 AUTHOR OF "DONOVAN." " DOREEN," "HOPE, THE HERMIT," ETC., ETG 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, $1.5O 
 
 " The days when England was rent with civil war, when Puritan and Cava- 
 lier fought for Parliament and King ; when Cromwell's Roundheads struggled 
 heroically against the lawless Charles and finally won this is the period chosen 
 for this splendid story . . . while of necessity there is abundance of war, the 
 story is, above all, one of love tried and triumphant . . . Finely written, 
 full of striking pictures of men and events. 
 
 The book is full of people with whom each of us is familiar through reading 
 history, and every one of them is drawn with rare fidelity to truth. The tale 
 should have a hearty welcome from all classes of readers." 
 
 NASHVILLE AMERICAN. 
 
 " The romance . . . the familiar one of a Royalist maiden and a Puritan 
 lover who espoused the cause of the people . . . is of deep interest and the 
 story thrills with the excitement of conflicts and adventures, mingled with the 
 gentle influences of love. 
 
 The book is pleasing in all respects, and the story is exceedingly well told 
 holding interest to the end. " EVERY EVENING, WILMINGTON, DEL. 
 
 " This story of 532 pages is one which will win its thousands of readers, as a 
 story of love and trial, war and separation, must when handled with the skill 
 which this author's training has given her." MAIL AND EXPRESS, N. Y. 
 
 " It has much historic interest . . . A pretty romance holds the reader's 
 interest all through the book. The hero is a Puritan, while the girl he loves, 
 Hilary, as sweet and wilful and true a maid as could have been found in those 
 stormy times, is a bishop's niece and therefore a Royalist in all her sympathies. 
 There are strong dramatic scenes in the book the battlefield and the political 
 intrigue of court life are portrayed and also the religious strife existing at the 
 time. The bigotry of the Church and the fanaticism of many, of the Puritans is 
 well portrayed. The book, like all that this author has written, is interesting 
 and wholesome." REPUBLICAN, DENVER, COL. 
 
 "The story is clean, pure and wholesome, has plenty of adventure and a 
 goodly amount of love-making, and is written in an easy, pleasant strain that 
 makes it an entertaining book." BALTIMORE AMERICAN. 
 
 " Is well worth the reading." CHURCHMAN, N. Y. 
 
 " The high moral tone of the book and its historical accuracy will commend 
 It to the better class of novel readers." CONGREGATION ALIST, BOSTON. 
 
 "The latest book by Edna Lyall may safely be said to be one of the best of 
 recent historical novels." BOSTON TRANSCRIPT. 
 
 LONGMAUS, GKEEN, & 00., 91-03 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YOEK
 
 CHARLOTTE 
 
 By MRS. L. B. WALFORD 
 Crown 8vo, 382 pages, $I.5O 
 
 " Charlotte is an exceedingly beautiful, fascinating, and utterly selfish 
 coquette, belonging to a ' smart set ' whose rapid pace is hardly swift 
 enough to suit her ... a very good story with a very good moral. " 
 CHURCH STANDARD, PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
 "... a society novel pulsating with life and action, and revealing 
 many of the subtleties of the human heart. 
 
 " The scene vacillates pleasantly between London at its season's height, 
 fashionable summer-resorts, and tranquillizing rural retreats, with a strange 
 interplay of light and shadow and commingling of comedy and tragedy. 
 From an artistic standpoint the book is a clever creation, vivid and real." 
 
 CHICAGO POST. 
 
 ' This is a study of a young lady who is not at all good, but who, as not 
 infrequently is the case with people of doubtful virtues, is very interesting 
 
 . , an extremely readable novel. " COURIER, LEBANON, PA. 
 
 THE HINDERERS 
 
 By EDNA LYALL 
 Crown 8vo, fl.OO 
 
 " There is itn unusual love-story in ' The Hinderers ' and a heroine of 
 much magnetism. Irene de St. Croix, a lovable English girl of an admir- 
 able type. The romance of her wooing by Sir Christopher Hope is well 
 told." REPUBLIC, ST. Louis. 
 
 "... this interesting novel deserves to be read by all those who 
 would like to follow a clean, well-told, and spirited narrative of incidents, 
 that are liable to occur in this age of furious living." 
 
 PICAYUNE, NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 " The book should be read and will be enjoyed by the many admirers of 
 this well-known writer of fiction." CHRISTIAN WORK, NEW YORK. 
 
 " This is one of the best stories written by Miss Bayly. It is a strong 
 narrative, well constructed, with characters skilfully handled. It is a story 
 of the present time and absorbingly interesting." 
 
 ARMY AND NAVY REGISTER, WASHINGTON, D. C 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN. & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
 
 ONE OF OURSELVES 
 
 BY MRS. L. B. WALFORD 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE BABY'S GRANDMOTHER," " LEDDY MARGET," ETC., ETC, 
 
 Crown 8vo, 454 Pages, $1.5O 
 
 " Never before were better portraits made of middle-class English women 
 than we find in the wives of the three bankers, Thomas, Charles, and Stephen 
 Farrell ; ... is about the best novel Mrs. Walford has ever written, and as 
 has already been said, her characters, all of them, are depicted with remarkable 
 grace and virility." TIMES, BOSTON. 
 
 " An entertaining story with characteristic piquancy, shrewdness, and sensi- 
 bility. She has ever had a special gift for the description of what may be called 
 tasteful love-making." NBW YORK TRIBUNB. 
 
 "Is an amusing English story ; ... it is full of amusing incidents and 
 situations." SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE. 
 
 "There is great variety of scene and incident in the novel, and the situ- 
 ations are amusing." ARGONAUT, SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
 " A very vivacious story of four orphans. . . . The conversations are 
 unusually well managed." NEW ENGLAND MAGAZINE. 
 
 " This is a story of English life, brightly told, a little on the long side, but 
 interesting and entertaining throughout. Moreover, it is altogether wholesome 
 reading, which is more than can be said of many stories published nowadays. 
 Its lessons are good. There 1 is one for young girls and women, and one, too, 
 for men. Much of the telling of the story is managed by conversations, and 
 these, though oftentimes very amusing, are simple and natural very different 
 from the smart persiflage and elegant wit-play so much striven for by many 
 writers of modern fiction. ' One of Ourselves ' is indeed on the whole a very 
 likable story. There are many characters in it some pretty ones and these 
 are all portrayed admirably. A story with so much domesticity in it, and so 
 little that is stagey and melodramatic, is not far from rare." 
 
 BULLETIN OF NEW BOOKS. 
 
 " It is a remarkably good character study. The quiet adventures and pleas- 
 ant happenings of the various members of the family are most interesting, and 
 one enjoys the society of a wholesome group throughout the whole story." 
 
 FINANCIAL RECORD, NEW YORK. 
 
 "A very bright social study, and the author succeeds in thoroughly arousing 
 the reader's interest in the love-making of William Farrell, who, in the guise of 
 
 an honored member of society, is a consummate scoundrel." 
 
 HERALD, MONTREAL. 
 
 LONGMANS, GEEEN, & CO,, 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW TOEK.
 
 THE WHIRLIGIG 
 
 By MAYNE LINDSAY 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE VALLEY OF SAPPHIRES 1 
 
 With 8 full-page Illustrations by Maurice Grleffenhagen 
 Crown Svo, $1 .25 
 
 "Crisp and clever diction, thrilling yet always possible situations, with 
 strength sustained throughout, are the features of the story. It is a perfect 
 romance." LLOYDS' NBWS. 
 
 " Fairly takes one off his feet with its crowded, impetuous, bustling succes- 
 sion of events. The story is well told and holds the interest . . . The story 
 while discoursing of dangerous things does it lightly and with a skillful hand." 
 
 COURIER-JOURNAL, LOUISVILLE, K.Y. 
 
 " Makes stirring reading . . . the action takes place within three days, 
 and the reader is carried along breathlessly from one chapter to another." 
 
 CHICAGO TRIBUNE. 
 
 "And surely it is a 'Whirligig' which Mayne Lindsay has devised, abun- 
 dant in well-preserved mystery, with the proper amount of sword-play and the due 
 complement of broken heads, and full of exciting yet possible situations. Mr. 
 Lindsay, though comparatively a new writer, shows nothing of the amateur in 
 this dashing, roystering story, which, aside from its incidents, is good in charac- 
 ter drawing." DETROIT FREE PRESS. 
 
 " The author is a young and comparatively new writer, but has shown un- 
 usual skill and ingenuity in this novel. Seldom has an author succeeded in 
 crowding two days of a man's life so full of stirring, unexpected events as are 
 here provided for the hero." CHICAGO EVENING POST. 
 
 "A sparkling, very prettily turned little romance, whimsical and pictur- 
 esque." NEW YORK TIMES. 
 
 " Among stories of adventure it would be hard to match ' The Whirligig.' 
 ... It starts in a quiet, if unconventional, way, but once fairly launched on 
 the stream of narrative, the reader is carried along, in breathless, eager haste to 
 the very end. It is a story to thrill the pulses and keep one on the edge of 
 ardent curiosity as to what is going to turn up next." THE BEACON, BOSTON. 
 
 " There is no dozing or drowsing to be done over this novel. It is a swiftly 
 moving tale of breathless excitement. It is drawn according to a familiar pat- 
 tern ; but it has merits of its own that will compel the attention and absorbed 
 interest of every reader who once takes it up. The writer is new, but should 
 soon become well known and popular, if he can do this sort of thing again." 
 
 PHILADELPHIA TIMES. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
 
 CYNTHIA'S WAY 
 
 By Mrs. ALFRED SIDGWICK 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE INNER SHRINE," "THE GRASSHOPPERS." KTC. 
 
 Crown Svo, cloth, $1.5O 
 
 " This is a tale of an heiress that is not met with every day. Cynthia Blount 
 is a millionairess whose wish it is to be loved for her own sake and not for her 
 material wealth. As a means to this end she takes a situation, which has been 
 offered to a friend, as English governess in a German family. . . . German 
 family life is very intimately and faithfully depicted, and most of the characters 
 are well drawn and interesting. * Cynthia's Way ' is well worth reading." 
 
 DAILY CHRONICLE, NEWCASTLE, ENG. 
 
 " This is an unusually interesting book . . . it is so artistically handled, 
 so delightfully unravelled that one forgets and forgives ... for light, inter- 
 esting literature, a joy to the traveller, this dainty book has not been surpassed 
 in many moons." SPIRIT OF THE TIMES, NEW YORK. 
 
 " A delightful story of German life. . . . Altogether the story deserves 
 higher praise than it is possible to give to the ruck of current fiction." 
 
 JOURNAL, PROVIDENCE, R. I. 
 
 It is a most amusing novel. . . . For the fairness of the book it would 
 be unsafe to vouch, but there can be no doubt that it is entertaining. Even a 
 German might smile over it. " REPUBLICAN, SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 
 
 "The dialogue of the book fairly sparkles, and the light fiction of the year 
 offers no more charming medium of pleasure." DENVER REPUBLICAN. 
 
 " This is an amusing, clever book, full of humorous scenes, a satirical under- 
 standing of the lighter sides of character, done with a light touch and much 
 taste." COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER, N. Y. 
 
 " There are so few really bright and entertaining novels this season that 
 Cynthia's Way ' will be gladly seized upon by hungry novel readers. The style 
 is very taking and amusing." BOSTON BEACON. 
 
 " This is a taking story, humorous and brisk, with a flavor of originality 
 that makes it appetizing." FREE PRESS, DETROIT, MICH. 
 
 " A most readable story of pure tone and interesting matter . . . can be 
 heartily recommended to anyone liking a wholesome tale of interesting people. *' 
 
 COURIER-JOURNAL, LOUISVILLE, KY. 
 
 " Mrs. Sidgwick's new novel, ' Cynthia's Way ' her cleverest piece of work 
 thus far reminds us strongly of ' The Benefactress.' The same fresh, vivacious, 
 and femininely ironical style marks the two stories and wins upon the reader 
 with irresistible beguilement. No one will put down the history of Cynthia, we 
 Imagine, until the last page is reached." N. Y. TRIBUNE. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
 
 THE MANOR FARM 
 
 By M. E. FRANCIS (Mrs. FRANCIS BLUNDELL) 
 
 AUTHOR OF " PASTORALS OF DORSET," " FIANDER'S WIDOW," ETC. 
 
 With Frontispiece by Claud C. Du Pro Cooper. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth, ornamental, $1.5O 
 
 " Quaint humor of the richest quality is written in the pages of Mrs. Blun- 
 dell's new book. . . . When two great and well-to-do cousins plan the 
 welfare of their names needs the marriage of their children, the trouble begins. 
 No one has yet shown greater skill than our author in weaving the green and 
 gold pattern of young life. The growth of these two young people from child- 
 hood, the betrothal, the almost necessary hitch in affairs, for such is human 
 nature, the very natural solution, Mrs. Blundell has made delightful, humorous, 
 and wholly artistic. It is the finest of character drawing, for the men and women 
 are not too proud to be human, nor bad enough to be uncompanionable. " 
 
 LIVING CHURCH, MILWAUKEE. 
 
 "A real treat is in store for the readers of ' The Manor Farm.' . . . It is 
 a naive and picturesque story of English country life, with just enough dialect 
 to show that the people are genuine country folk." 
 
 CHURCHMAN, NEW YORK. 
 
 "... A delightful story, told in a delightful way. It is what you may 
 call a complete story . . . giving you quaint, rich and wholesome descrip- 
 tion of men and things on an English farm. It is one of the few novels of the 
 year worth passing around the family or, perhaps, better yet, reading in the 
 assembled family." UNITY, CHICAGO, ILL. 
 
 " Wholesome and sweet as the scent of growing clover is the atmosphere of 
 this charming pastoral tale of English yeoman life, Written in the easiest and 
 most unaffected style it narrates with much animation and humor the fortunes 
 of two branches of a certain family of farmer folk. . . . The ' love interest ' is 
 as artless and innocent as it is engaging." INDEPENDENT, NEW YORK. 
 
 " A pretty rustic love story . . . The story is thoroughly readable and 
 clean." NEW YORK SUN. 
 
 "... The story is excellently written. The English peasants who figure 
 in it speak an odd local dialect that gives originality, never unnaturalness to the 
 style . . . the story ends pleasantly, as such an idyl should. The book 
 rings true, and deserves a cordial reception." RECORD-HERALD, CHICAGO. 
 
 " This is a wholesome romance of the Dorsetshire country. It concerns the 
 endeavors of two farmer cousins to bring about the marriage of their son and 
 daughter for the welfare of the old manor farm. The plot, which is a simple one, 
 is developed with naturalness and humor . . . her pictures of the homely 
 life among the farms and dairies are delightful." THE OUTLOOK, NEW YORK. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
 
 FIANDER'S WIDOW 
 
 By M. E. FRANCIS (Mrs. FRANCIS BLUNDELL) 
 AUTHOR OF "THE DUENNA OF A GENIUS," "YEOMAN FLEETWOOD," ETC. 
 
 Crown 8vo, ornamental cover, $ 1 .50 
 
 "Is an altogether delightful story. ... If more of such novels were 
 written, pure, wholesome and bracing, redolent of everything that is pleasant 
 to the senses, the world would be all the better. " BRISTOL MERCURY. 
 
 " An idyll of Dorsetshire life, as natural and fresh and wholesome as the old 
 stone dairy in which some of the scenes take place. . . . The book is redo- 
 lent of the charm of English country life, pure and sweet, as it were, with the 
 scent of the gorse and the breath of the kine, of all things that are wholesome 
 and homely and good." COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER, NEW YORK. 
 
 " One of the most charming of recently published works of fiction. . . . 
 The plot has an appetizing freshness about it, and more than once the unexpected 
 happens." CHICAGO EVENING POST. 
 
 " Here is a story of life in rural England well worth reading, because of the 
 curious social conditions it describes, and yet these, though well set forth, are 
 only incidental to the main theme, which is a delightful study, involving much 
 humor and no tragedy, of the belated coming of love to an earnest, warm- 
 hearted woman. It is brightly, lightly done, and yet holds the attention and 
 contains sufficient to provoke thought." PUBLIC LEDGER, PHILA. 
 
 "A truly delightful bucolic comedy. The theme might almost be called 
 farcial, but the treatment is delicate, quaint and graceful. Old Isaac, the rustic 
 bachelor who narrowly escapes matrimony from a sense of duty, is a Dorset- 
 shire original and deserves to rank with the best rustics of Hardy, Blackmore, 
 and Philpotts. The story is prettily told and is wholesomely amusing. Mrs. 
 Blundell is always careful in her literary workmanship ; this tale will add to the 
 popular appreciation of her work. " OUTLOOK, N. Y. 
 
 11 An altogether charming tale. . . . There is not a dull page in it, and 
 there are continuous pages and chapters of the brightest humor." 
 
 LIVING CHURCH, MILWAUKEE. 
 
 " A beautiful little story. One is at a loss for an epithet adequate to its 
 charm, its simplicity, its humor, its truth." BROOKLYN EAGLE. 
 
 " A bright little pastoral comedy. . . . The widow is a rare combination 
 of business sense and sentiment, a combination which insures her both prosper- 
 ity and happiness. Reversing the usual order of love and life she postpones 
 romance until she is able to entertain her Prince Charming in truly royal style. 
 The sly efforts of one Isaac Sharpe to rid himself of the burden of matrimony 
 are genuinely amusing." PUBLIC OPINION, N. Y. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
 
 THE DISENTANGLERS 
 
 By ANDREW LANG 
 
 With 7 full-page Illustrations by H. J. Ford 
 Crown 8vo, $ 1.5O 
 
 "... Original in conception and prodigiously clever in treatment 
 The 'great idea' of the two impoverished young Englishmen to whom we are 
 introduced in the first chapter is to organize a system of disengaging or disen- 
 tangling those youths and maidens who contemplate marriage against which 
 family opposition is sure to be brought. . . . This may not seem a start- 
 lingly new motive, but there is novelty enough in the author's exploitation of it, 
 and as he warms to his work he accomplishes things more and more bewildering 
 and delightful ... if this amusing book, as amusing in substance as it is 
 accomplished in style, does not win a wider popularity than anything of Mr. 
 Lang's has hitherto enjoyed, we shall be very much surprised." 
 
 NEW YORK TRIBUNE. 
 
 "... He shows us how two ingenious young Englishmen, aided by 
 various pretty girls, set up an agency for the benefit of families. . . . Mr. 
 Lang has succeeded in achieving both unity of theme, and variety of adventure, 
 while each of the amusing episodes is enlivened by a humor as playful as it is 
 delicate." SAN FRANCISCO CALL. 
 
 " One of the most amusing books of the season. The volume is a capital 
 one to take up at odd moments." THE LIVING AGE, BOSTON. 
 
 "... The plot of Mr. Lang's story is original and is developed in the 
 inimitable way which belongs to that entertaining writer. It is really an en- 
 joyable story. . . . It is a new line of fiction for Mr. Lang, and he has 
 combined humor, fantasy, and a study of society's methods in a very clever 
 production." HERALD, GRAND RAPIDS, MICH. 
 
 " Not only literature and love, but wireless telegraphy, submarine vessels, 
 seizing a woman for a vast ransom, and, in truth, everything else one has heard 
 of in these latter days is at least touched in ' The Disentanglers.' There is a 
 subtle flattery about the book, too ; Mr. Lang trusts his reader's brains ; he 
 expresses himself in hints, not in surgical operations." NEW YORK TIMES. 
 
 "' The Disentanglers ' is not only a novel that possesses the merit of origin- 
 ality, but contains a series of parodies of some of the popular novelists of the 
 day that are most admirable. More excellent fooling or better high-class com- 
 edy has rarely been brought together in a single volume." 
 
 JOURNAL, CHICAGO. 
 
 "... It is a merry collection of merry tales. ... All in all, Mr. 
 Lang's book is highly amusing, and it will doubtless add not a little to the gay- 
 ety of the British literary nation." TRANSCRIPT, BOSTON. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
 
 DONNA DIANA 
 
 By RICHARD BAGOT 
 
 AUTHOR OF " CASTING OF NETS," ''' A ROMAN MYSTERY," ETC. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt top, $1.5O 
 
 " Richard Bagot's fiction has always striking qualities, and his latest novel, 
 Donna Diana/ is by far his best ... as a story it is sure of success.'' 
 
 THE LIVING AGE, BOSTON. 
 
 " The story is well told, full of color and vivid scene." 
 
 ST. Louis REPUBLIC. 
 
 "Whether Mr. Richard Bagot has really penetrated the recesses of Roman 
 Catholic consciousness we may not know, but certainly if what he writes is not 
 true, it has a marvelous appearance of it. ... Of the story, as a story, we 
 have space to say only that it is well told, and holds the interest for its own sake 
 unflagging to the end." CHURCHMAN, NEW YORK. 
 
 " A brilliant and charming romance." SCOTSMAN. 
 
 "... A Roman story with a vigorous and powerful setting and an 
 abundance of plot and intrigue. It is a mighty good story, well told, and there 
 are very few books of this season that will have as large and delighted a circle 
 of readers." HERALD, SARATOGA SPRINGS, N. Y. 
 
 "... Equals Marion Crawford's books in the capable and certain 
 handling of his characters in the picturesque but tortuous highways of the 
 Roman world of to-day. He gives a detailed view of the domestic customs and 
 social life of the aristocracy and tells at the same time an absorbing love story." 
 
 ITEM, PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
 " . . . It is an absorbing story, containing a constant conflict between 
 bigotry and open-mindedness, between evil and good. Mr. Bagot takes his 
 readers into the homes of his Roman friends, and with much care and detail 
 describes their domestic and social life, such as is rarely given to a foreigner to 
 observe." EAGLE, BROOKLYN, N. Y. 
 
 " . . . There is not a particle of let-up in interest from cover to cover. 
 As one enters the city gates via the first chapter, he is loth to quit the interest- 
 ing company of friendships he makes, both secular and churchly, until he knows, 
 as far as the author reveals it, the destiny of each of the personages who par- 
 ticipate in the making of a capital story." TRANSCRIPT, BOSTON. 
 
 " . . . Mr. Bagot's substantial knowledge of Roman life has contributed 
 a great deal toward giving vitality to the social groups depicted in the pages of 
 4 Donna Diana,' and there is much else that gives the romance considerable 
 human and artistic effect." BALTIMORE SUN. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
 

 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES 
 
 COLLEGE LIBRARY 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below. 
 
 IOCT ] ] 2004 
 
 Book Slip-25>rt-9,'59(A4772s4)4280
 
 UCLA-College Library 
 
 PR 4731 S82 
 
 i-oncge 
 Library 
 
 PR 
 4731 
 
 L 005 699 068 2. 
 
 UC SOUTH 
 
 7 001165828 3