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Updated: June 3, 2025
For the next month Terence O'Malley possessed his soul in patience; he worked, and the work saved him. That is to say it enabled him to keep what men call "balanced." Stahl had whether intentionally or not he was never quite certain raised a tempest in him. More accurately, perhaps, he had called it to the top, for it had been raging deep down ever since he could remember, or had begun to think.
He had been oblivious to the fact that Stahl had all the time been watching, investigating, keenly examining. Abruptly he now realized it. And then Stahl spoke. His tone was winning, his manner frank and inviting. But it was the sadness about him that won O'Malley's confidence so wholly. "I can guess," he said, "something of the dream you've brought with you from those mountains.
For some moments evidently he had been absent-mindedly staring down the table. He turned quickly and looked at the doctor with frankness. This time it was impossible to avoid speech of some kind. "Following those lights that do mislead the morn?" asked Dr. Stahl slyly. "Your thoughts have been traveling. You've heard none of my last remarks!"
"It's beautiful," O'Malley answered ignoring the question, "because it lives. But there is dust upon its outer loveliness, dust that has gathered through long ages of neglect, dust that I would sweep away I've learnt how to do it. He taught me." Stahl did not even look at him, though the words were wild enough. He walked at his side in silence. Perhaps he partly understood.
Stahl was the last of these, and Lavoisier the first of the new school in that which I have stated is the highest development of modern science, chemistry. In all these departments we have no adequate reason to assert that we are not ourselves mere students. The old lands of sameness and slumber have kept their secrets.
Twice already in that cabin-scene, as also on the deck when Stahl had seized him the moment had come close. Now, again, had he kept hold of the boy's grasp, that inner transformation, which should later become externalized, must have completed itself. "No, no!" he tried to cry aloud, "for I'm not yet ready!" But his voice rose scarcely above a whisper.
Stahl, were placed on the tiles, and the chairs just arrived by Semiramis stood on them. We afterwards had to clear the platforms away they became full of white ants; but they looked very well at first. When all was ready, Captain Brooke and all the principal English inhabitants met the Bishop at the church door, and presented a petition that he would consecrate the building.
In the story, as I found it later in the dusty little Paddington room, O'Malley reported, somewhat heavily, it seemed to me, the excerpts chosen by Dr. Stahl. As an imaginative essay, they were interesting, of course, and vitally suggestive, but in a tale of adventure such as this they overweight the barque of fancy.
"The earth here," said O'Malley, taking advantage of a pause in the other's chatter, "produces some splendid types. Look at those two; they make one think of trees walking blown along bodily before a wind." He watched them with admiration as they swung off and disappeared among the crowd. Dr. Stahl, glancing keenly at him, laughed a little.
"Ah " said the Irishman, lighting a fresh cigarette from the dying stump so clumsily that the trembling of the hand was noticeable. "And akin most likely," said Stahl, thrusting his face across the table with a whispering tone, "to that man who tempted you." O'Malley did not answer.
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