MONELLA
Two days later Dr. Lorien and his son arrived in Georgetown and, after taking rooms at the Kaieteur Hotel, went at once to call upon the Kingsfords. This haste was, in reality, prompted by Harry, whose thoughts were bent upon his hopes of once more seeing the pretty Stella; but the ostensible reason that he urged upon his father was somewhat different, and had to do with the message of which they were the bearers from the white stranger they had met in their travels.
At the evening dinner the matter was discussed, Mr. Kingsford and his son Robert and the others being present.
The two travellers had much to tell of their adventures, which had been full of both interest and danger, apart from the matter of the stranger’s message.
“And yet, I think,” observed the doctor, thoughtfully, “our meeting with this stranger, and his behaviour, impressed me more than almost all else that happened to us.”
“How so? What is he like?” asked Mr. Kingsford.
“In figure he is very tall; of a most commanding stature and appearance. I am not short.”
“Why, you are over six feet!” put in Harry.
“And yet I almost think, if he had held his arm straight out, I could have walked under it with my hat on, and without stooping.”
“I’m sure you could, dad,” Harry corroborated.
“As to age—there I confess myself at sea. As a doctor I am accustomed to judge of age; yet he thoroughly puzzled me. If I could believe in the possibility of a man’s being a hundred and fifty years old and yet remaining strong and hale and vigorous, I should not be surprised if he had claimed that age. On the other hand, if one could believe in a young, stalwart, muscular man of thirty with the face and white hair of an old-looking, but not very old man, then I could have believed it if I had been told he was no more than thirty. In fact, he was a complete puzzle to me; a mystery. But the most remarkable thing about him was the expression of his eyes; they were the most extraordinary I have ever seen in my life.”
“Wild—mad-looking?” Templemore asked.
“Oh no, by no means; quite the reverse. Very steady and piercing; but wonderfully fascinating. Mild and kind-looking to a fault; and yet changing to a look of quiet, almost stern resolution that had in it nothing hard, or cruel, or disagreeable. In fact, I hardly know how to describe that look, or convey an idea of it, except by saying that it was something between the gaze of a lion and that of a Newfoundland dog. It had all the majesty, the magnanimity, the conscious power of the one, with the benevolence and wistful kindness and affection of the other. Never have I seen such an expression. I really did not know the human countenance could express the mingled characteristics one seemed to read so plainly in his—all kindly, all noble, all suggestive of sincerity and integrity.”
“You are enthusiastic!” said Robert, laughing.
The old doctor coloured up a little; then took out his handkerchief and wiped his face.
“I know it sounds strange to hear an old man of the[19] world like me speak so forcibly about a man’s appearance,” he returned; “but, if it is true, I do not see why I should not say it. Ask Harry here.”
“I couldn’t take my eyes off his face,” Harry declared. “He fairly fascinated me. I felt I should have to do anything he told me; even to taking my pistol and killing the first person I met. I do believe I should have done it—or any other out-of-the way thing. And he made you feel, too, as though you liked him so, that you longed to do any mortal thing you could to please him.”
“What’s his name?” asked Templemore.
“Monella.”
“Monella? Is that all? No other name?”
