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Updated: May 12, 2025
When she came 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 lived out his life he was sixty-eight, you know, and there is an end."
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 Stella.
"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."
Fregelius 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 Morris, tacitly at any rate, had accepted the conclusion.
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 attentions of the inhabitants of Monksland to the cowardly foreign sailors became so marked that their consul at Northwold had thought it wise to get them out of the place as quickly as possible.
Like many weak men, Stephen Layard was obstinate, also from boyhood up he had suffered much at the hands 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.
"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.
Being by nature and training a hard-working man who wished to do his best for his cure even while he lay helpless, Mr. Fregelius welcomed the advances of this wealthy young gentleman 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.
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.
"The garment which 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.
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