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H. Rider Haggard. Stella Fregelius: A Tale of Three Destinies
Stella Fregelius: A Tale of Three Destinies
Table of Contents
STELLA FREGELIUS
CHAPTER I
MORRIS, MARY, AND THE AEROPHONE
CHAPTER II
THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS
CHAPTER III
“POOR PORSON”
CHAPTER IV
MARY PREACHES AND THE COLONEL PREVAILS
CHAPTER V
A PROPOSAL AND A PROMISE
CHAPTER VI
THE GOOD OLD DAYS
CHAPTER VII
BEAULIEU
CHAPTER VIII
THE SUNK ROCKS AND THE SINGER
CHAPTER IX
MISS FREGELIUS
CHAPTER X
DAWN AND THE LAND
CHAPTER XI
A MORNING SERVICE
CHAPTER XII
MR. LAYARD’S WOOING
CHAPTER XIII
TWO QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER
CHAPTER XIV
THE RETURN OF THE COLONEL
CHAPTER XV
THREE INTERVIEWS
CHAPTER XVI
A MARRIAGE AND AFTER
CHAPTER XVII
THE RETURN OF MARY
CHAPTER XVIII
TWO EXPLANATIONS
CHAPTER XIX
MORRIS, THE MARRIED MAN
CHAPTER XX
STELLA’S DIARY
CHAPTER XXI
THE END OF STELLA’S DIARY
CHAPTER XXII
THE EVIL GATE
CHAPTER XXIII
STELLA COMES
CHAPTER XXIV
DREAMS AND THE SLEEP
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H. Rider Haggard
Published by Good Press, 2021
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“Oh! that’s your style, is it?” he said. “Well, at your age I should have preferred something a little different. 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 old Charters that I would always be in bed by half-past eleven. Good night, my boy. By the way, you remember that your uncle Porson 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—because 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 desperate, and if I can, I mean to save the old place, for his sake and our family’s, as well as my own.”
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