Stella Fregelius | Page 9

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, following his
natural bent, he became an electrician, and now, abandoning the
practical side of that modest calling, 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 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 it 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 of the energy which other young men gave 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 unending
stream floated out of the 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 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 marriage, 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 Porson. He understands figures, and so he ought, considering
that he kept the books in his grandfather'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
calculations. Still, reflected his parent, it