Book

Novel [Science-Fiction]

“No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth

century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by

intelligences greater than man’s and yet as mortal as his own; that as

men busied themselves about their various concerns they were

scrutinised and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a

microscope might scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and

multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency men went to and

fro over this globe about their little affairs, serene in their

assurance of their empire over matter…”

Book

Book

” ‘You’ve spoiled everything, Ned,’ she said. ‘It’s all so beautiful

and natural until this kind of thing comes in. It is such a pity.

Why can’t you control yourself? ‘

  ‘I didn’t invent it,’ I pleaded. ‘It’s nature. It’s love!’

  ‘Well, perhaps if both love it may be different. I have never felt

it.’

  ‘But you must- you, with your beauty, with your soul! Oh, Gladys,

you were made for love! You must love!’

  ‘One must wait till it comes.’

  ‘But why can’t you love me, Gladys? Is it my appearance, or what?..”

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 ”YOU will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the

commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil

forebodings. I arrived here yesterday; and my first task is to

assure my dear sister of my welfare, and increasing confidence in

the success of my undertaking.

  I am already far north of London; and as I walk in the streets

of Petersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks,

which braces my nerves, and fills me with delight. Do you understand

this feeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions

towards which I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy

climes. Inspirited by this wind of promise, my day dreams become

more fervent and vivid….”

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“…. As he did so, a knock

came to the door. He passed out as his servant entered.

  “The persons are here, Monsieur.”

  He felt that the man must be got rid of at once. He must not be

allowed to know where the picture was being taken to. There was

something sly about him, and he had thoughtful, treacherous eyes.

Sitting down at the writing-table, he scribbled a note to Lord

Henry, asking him to send him round something to read, and reminding

him that they were to meet at eight-fifteen that evening.

  “Wait for an answer,” he said, handing it to him, “and show the

men in here….”