Master of His Fate | Page 4

a thing as an absolute impossibility?" murmured Julius,
who still sat with his chin in his hand, looking as if he considered the
"thing" from a long way off as one of a multitude of other things.
"I do not believe there is," said the journalist; "but--"
"Don't let us lose ourselves in metaphysics," broke in Embro. Then,
turning to Courtney, whose direct intelligent gaze seemed to disconcert
him, he said, "Now, Julius, you've seen, I daresay, a good many things
we have not seen,--have you ever seen or known a case like this we're
talking about?"
"I can't say I have," said Julius.
"There you are!" quoth Embro, in triumph.
"But," continued Julius, "I don't therefore nail that case down as false."
"Do you mean to say," exclaimed Embro, "that you have lived all your
years, and studied science at the Salpétrière,--or what they call science
there,--and studied and seen God knows what else besides, and you
can't pronounce an opinion from all you know on a case of this sort?"

"Oh yes," said Julius, quietly, "I can pronounce an opinion; but what's
the use of that? I think that case is true, but I don't know that it is; and
therefore I can't argue about it, for argument should come from
knowledge, and I have none. I have a few opinions, and I am always
ready to receive impressions; but, besides some schoolboy facts that are
common property, the only thing I know--I am certain of--is, as some
man says, 'Life's a dream worth dreaming.'"
"You're too high-falutin for me, Julius," said Embro, shaking his head.
"But my opinion, founded on my knowledge, is that this story is a
hallucination of the young woman's noddle!"
"And how much, Embro," laughed Julius, rising to leave the circle, "is
the argument advanced by your ticketing the case with that long word?"
"To say 'hallucination,'" quoth Lefevre, "is a convenient way of giving
inquiry the slip."
"My dear Embro," said Julius,--and he spoke with an emphasis, and
looked down on Embro with a bright vivacity of eye, which forewarned
the circle of one of his eloquent flashes: a smile of expectant enjoyment
passed round,--"hallucination is the dust-heap and limbo of the
meanly-equipped man of science to-day, just as witchcraft was a few
hundred years ago. The poor creature of science long ago, when he
came upon any pathological or psychological manifestation he did not
understand, used to say, 'Witchcraft! Away with it to the limbo!' To-day
he says, 'Hallucination! Away with it to the dust-heap!' It is a pity,"
said he, with a laugh, "you ever took to science, Embro."
"And why, may I ask?" said Embro.
"Oh, you'd have been great as an orthodox theologian of the Kirk; the
cocksureness of theology would have suited you like your own coat.
You are not at home in science, for you have no imagination."
It was characteristic of the peculiar regard in which Julius was held that
whatever he said or did appeared natural and pleasant,--like the
innocent actions and the simple, truthful speech of a child. Not even

Embro was offended with these last words of his: the others laughed;
Embro smiled, though with a certain sourness.
"Pooh, Julius!" said he; "what are you talking about? Science is the
examination of facts, and what has imagination to do with that? Reason,
sir, is what you want!"
"My dear Embro," said Julius, "there are several kinds of facts. There
are, for instance, big facts and little facts,--clean facts and dirty facts.
Imagination raises you and gives you a high and comprehensive view
of them all; your mere reason keeps you down in some noisome corner,
like the man with the muck-rake."
"Hear, hear!" cried the journalist and the artist heartily.
"You're wrong, Julius," said Embro,--"quite wrong. Keep your
imagination for painting and poetry. In science it just leads you the
devil's own dance, and fills you with delusions."
Julius paused, and bent on him his peculiar look, which made a man
feel he was being seen through and through.
"I am surprised, Embro," said he, "that one can live all your years and
not find that the illusions of life are its best part. If you leave me the
illusions, I'll give you all the realities. But how can we stay babbling
and quibbling here all this delicious afternoon? I must go out and see
green things and beasts. Come with me, Lefevre, to the Zoological
Gardens; it will do you good."
"I tell you what," said Lefevre, looking at the clock as they moved
away; "my mother and sister will call for me with the carriage in less
than half an hour: come with us for a drive."
"Oh yes," said Julius; "that's a good idea."
"And I," said Lefevre, "must have a