ollow him into wildernesses of
which she had never in her life even realized the existence.

'There is a size at which dignity begins,' he exclaimed; 'further on
there is a size at which grandeur begins; further on there is a size at
which solemnity begins; further on, a size at which awfulness begins;
further on, a size at which ghastliness begins. That size faintly
approaches the size of the stellar universe. So am I not right in saying
that those minds who exert their imaginative powers to bury themselves in
the depths of that universe merely strain their faculties to gain a new
horror?'

Standing, as she stood, in the presence of the stellar universe, under
the very eyes of the constellations, Lady Constantine apprehended
something of the earnest youth's argument.

'And to add a new weirdness to what the sky possesses in its size and
formlessness, there is involved the quality of decay. For all the wonder
of these everlasting stars, eternal spheres, and what not, they are not
everlasting, they are not eternal; they burn out like candles. You see
that dying one in the body of the Greater Bear? Two centuries ago it was
as bright as the others. The senses may become terrified by plunging
among them as they are, but there is a pitifulness even in their glory.
Imagine them all extinguished, and your mind feeling its way through a
heaven of total darkness, occasionally striking against the black,
invisible cinders of those stars. . . . If you are cheerful, and wish to
remain so, leave the study of astronomy alone. Of all the sciences, it
alone deserves the character of the terrible.'

'I am not altogether cheerful.'

'Then if, on the other hand, you are restless and anxious about the
future, study astronomy at once. Your troubles will be reduced
amazingly. But your study will reduce them in a singular way, by
reducing the importance of everything. So that the science is still
terrible, even as a panacea. It is quite impossible to think at all
adequately of the sky--of what the sky substantially is, without feeling
it as a juxtaposed nightmare. It is better--far better--for men to
forget the universe than to bear it clearly in mind! . . . But you say
the universe was not really what you came to see me about. What was it,
may I ask, Lady Constantine?'

She mused, and sighed, and turned to him with something pathetic in her.

'The immensity of the subject you have engaged me on has completely
crushed m