magnificent arrogance!" I was silent, but I could almost hear my
heart beating with suppressed emotion. I knew Morton Harland was an
atheist, so far as atheism is possible to any creature born of
spirit as well as matter, but I did not think he would air his
opinions so openly and at once before me the first evening of my
stay on board his yacht. I saw, however, that he spoke in this way
hoping to move me to an answering argument for the amusement of
himself and the other two men present, and therefore I did what was
incumbent upon me to do in such a situation--held my peace. Dr.
Brayle watched me curiously,--and poor Catherine Harland turned her
plaintive eyes upon me full of alarm. She had learned to dread her
father's fondness for starting topics which led to religious
discussions of a somewhat heated nature. But as I did not speak, Mr.
Harland was placed in the embarrassing position of a person
propounding a theory which no one shows any eagerness to accept or
to deny, and, looking slightly confused, he went on in a lighter and
more casual way--

"I had a friend once at Oxford,--a wonderful fellow, full of strange
dreams and occult fancies. He was one of those who believed in the
Divine half of man. He used to study curious old books and
manuscripts till long past midnight, and never seemed tired. His
father had lived by choice in some desert corner of Egypt for forty
years, and in Egypt this boy had been born. Of his mother he never
spoke. His father died suddenly and left him a large fortune under
trustees till he came of age, with instructions that he was to be
taken to England and educated at Oxford, and that when he came into
possession of his money, he was to be left free to do as he liked
with it. I met him when he was almost half-way through his
University course. I was only two or three years his senior, but he