# The Green Ray/Chapter VII
## CHAPTER VII. ARISTOBULUS URSICLOS.

Even had there been as great a number of visitors on the beach of Oban as are to be found at Brighton, Ramsgate, or Margate, Aristobulus Ursiclos could not have failed to attract attention.
Without any pretence to be placed at the head of her rivals, Oban is a bathing-place much frequented by visitors from all parts of the United Kingdom. Its situation on the straits of Mull, sheltered from the western winds by the island of Kerera, attracts a great many people. Some come for the bathing, others make it a central point for excursions to Glasgow, Inverness, and the Hebrides. Here it must be added that Oban is not in the least, as many watering-places are, a kind of convalescent home. Most of the people who come to pass the hot summer months here are in good health, and one does not run the risk of playing whist with one dying, and two sick people.
Oban has only been built about fifty years, and has quite a modern air in the arrangement of its houses and streets; nevertheless, the church, a kind of Norman edifice with an elegant steeple, the old ivy-clad castle of Dunolly, standing on a rock at the north end, the panorama of white houses and pretty villas which rise on the background of hills, lastly, the peaceful waters of the bay, where graceful pleasure-boats lie at anchor, make a charming picture.
This year, and during this month of August, there was no lack of visitors at Oban. In the visitor's book of one of the best hotels, among others more or less illustrious, the name of Aristobulus Ursiclos, of Dumfries, had figured for two or three weeks past.
He was a “person” of the age of twenty-eight, who had never been young, and probably would never be old; he gave one the impression of having been born at the age which he now appeared to be. His figure was neither good nor bad, his face very insignificant, with hair too fair for a man; he was short-sighted, and wore spectacles, and his small nose did not seem to belong to his face; of the 130,000 hairs which every human head ought to have, according to the latest statistics, he possessed about 60,000. He wore a beard round his cheeks and chin, which gave him rather the appearance of a monkey; had he been a monkey, he would have been a fine specimen, perhaps the missing link in the Darwinian theory.
Aristobulus was wealthy, but wealthier still in ideas, and yet the young savant, a graduate of the universities of Oxford and Edinburgh, was only clever enough to weary others with his universal knowledge; he knew more of the sciences of physic, chemistry, astronomy, and mathematics than of literature. He was very pretentious, but in reality it wanted but little to make him a perfect idiot. His chief mania, or his monomania if you like it better, was to give at random an explanation of the most natural things; in short, he was a pedant of a very disagreeable kind. One did not laugh at him because his remarks were laughable, but because he made himself so ridiculous. No one could have less claim to the motto of English Freemasons: Audi, vide, tace; he never listened, never saw anything, and was never silent. In a word, to borrow a comparison not inappropriate in this country of Walter Scott, Aristobulus Ursiclos, with his positive opinions, reminded one infinitely more of the Baillie Nicol Jarvie than his poetical cousin Rob Roy MacGregor.
And what daughter of the Highlands, without excepting Miss Campbell, would not have preferred Rob Roy to Nicol Jarvie?
Such was Aristobulus Ursiclos. How could the brothers have taken such a fancy to this pedant, and even have gone so far as to wish to be connected with him by marriage? How had he been able to make himself so agreeable to these worthy old gentlemen? Perhaps because he was the first who had made any overtures for the hand of their niece. With a kind of ingenuous delight the brothers had undoubtedly said to each other,—
“Here is a young man of good family, with a large fortune, which he has inherited from his parents and relatives, and, moreover, extraordinarily learned! He will be an excellent match for our dear Helena! This marriage can be easily brought about, and everything is most desirable.”
Thereupon they had offered each other snuff, and then had shut the box with a little click, which seemed to say,—
“That matter is settled.”
The brothers thought they had been very clever, thanks to this whim of the Green Ray, in bringing Miss Campbell to Oban. There, without any suspicion of an arranged plan, she would be able to resume her acquaintance with Aristobulus, which his absence had temporarily interrupted.
The hall of Helensburgh had been exchanged for the finest apartments in the Caledonian Hotel. If their stay at Oban should be prolonged it might be pleasanter to take some villa on the heights overlooking the town; but, meanwhile, with the assistance of Dame Bess and Partridge, all were comfortably settled in Master MacFyne's establishment.
At nine o'clock next morning the brothers Melville left the hotel, and went in search of Aristobulus, while Miss Campbell, still asleep in her room on the first floor, was little dreaming of their errand.
Our two friends went down to the beach, and knowing that their niece's soupirant was staying in one of the hotels on the north side of the bay, they walked in that direction.
It must be admitted that they were guided by a presentiment, for, ten minutes after they had started, Aristobulus, who was taking his usual morning walk in pursuit of science, on the beach, met them, and exchanged a formal greeting.
“Mr. Ursiclos!” exclaimed the brothers.
“You here, gentlemen?” replied Aristobulus, in a supercilious tone that betrayed no surprise. “You here, gentlemen, at Oban?”
“Since last night,” said Sam.
“And we are happy to see you, Mr. Ursiclos, looking so well,” added Sib.
“Oh, very well indeed, gentlemen. Of course you have heard of the despatch which has just arrived?”
“The despatch?” said Sam. “Has Gladstone already—”
“It has nothing to do with Gladstone,” replied Mr. Ursiclos, somewhat disdainfully; “it is a meteorological report.”
“Ah, indeed!” replied the two brothers.
“Yes; it is announced that the depression at Swinemunde has moved towards the north, and has sensibly fallen. Its centre is at present near Stockholm, where the barometer, declining an inch, that is twenty-five millimetres,”—to make use of the decimal system in vogue with savants—“stands at twenty-eight inches and six-tenths, or 726 millimétres. Though the pressure varies little in England and Scotland, it fell a tenth yesterday at Valentia, and two-tenths at Stornoway.”
“And from this depression—?” asked Sam.
“We must conclude—?” added Sib.
“That this fine weather will not last,” replied Aristobulus Ursiclos; “and that the sky will soon be charged with rain-clouds, brought up by the south-westerly winds from the Atlantic.”
The brothers thanked the young savant for having acquainted them with this interesting prognostic, and concluded from it that they would have to wait some time for the Green Ray, for which they were not in the least sorry, as it would serve to prolong their stay at Oban.
“And you have come—?” asked Aristobulus, after having picked up a flint, which he examined with the greatest attention.
The two brothers took care not to interrupt him in this study, but when the flint had been added to the collection already in the young savant's pocket,—
“We have come with the very natural intention of spending a short time here,” began Sib.
“And we must add,” said Sam, “that Miss Campbell, who accompanies us, has—”
“Ah! Miss Campbell,” interrupted Aristobulus.—“I believe that flint belongs to the Gaelic epoch, there are marks on it—really I shall be charmed to see Miss Campbell again!—marks of meteoric origin. This remarkably mild climate will do her a great deal of good.”
“At present she is wonderfully well,” observed Sam; “and has no need of the trip for her health.”
“No matter,” continued Aristobulus, “the air is excellent here; zero twenty-one of oxygen, and zero seventy-nine of azote, with a little moisture in hygienic quantity; as for carbonic acid, there is scarcely a vestige. I analyze it every morning.”
The brothers flattered themselves that it was a polite attention intended for their niece.
“But,” asked Aristobulus, “if you did not come to Oban on account of your health, may I ask why you left Helensburgh?”
“We have no need to conceal the reason from you, considering the position in which we stand,” replied Sib.
“Am I to believe that this change,” interrupted the young savant, “is owing to a very natural desire to give me an opportunity of seeing Miss Campbell under circumstances where we shall have better opportunity of knowing and esteeming each other?”
“Assuredly,” replied Sam; “we thought that in this way the end might be attained more easily.”
“I approve of your plan, gentlemen,” said Aristobulus. “Here, Miss Campbell and I are on neutral ground; we shall be able, occasionally, to talk of the fluctuations of the sea, the direction of the winds, the height of the waves, the variation of the tides, and other physical phenomena, which must be of the highest interest to her!”
After exchanging a smile of satisfaction, the brothers bowed their approbation, and added that, on their return to Helensburgh, they hoped to receive their amiable guest under a more definite title.
Aristobulus replied that he had great pleasure in accepting their invitation, and still more so as the Government were just now about to make some important drainage works on the Clyde, between Helensburgh and Greenock—works to be carried on under novel conditions, by means of electric engines; thus, while he was staying at the hall, he would be able to make observations of the work, and calculate its probable utility.
The brothers could not but acknowledge how favourable this coincidence was to their plans; when the young savant was not otherwise engaged, he would be able to amuse himself, following the different phases of this interesting work.
“But,” asked Aristobulus, “of course you doubtless thought of some pretext for coming here, for Miss Campbell will hardly expect to see me at Oban?”
“Yes, indeed,” replied Sib, “and our niece herself furnished this pretext.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the young savant; “and what is it?”
“It is a question of seeing some physical phenomenon, under conditions which cannot be obtained at Helensburgh.”
“Indeed, gentlemen,” said Aristobulus, adjusting his spectacles; “this, already, proves that there is a sympathetic affinity between Miss Campbell and myself! May I know what the phenomenon is which cannot be observed at Helensburgh?”
“Nothing more or less than the Green Ray,” replied Sam.
“The Green Ray?” exclaimed Aristobulus, with some surprise. “I have never heard of it! Dare I ask what this Green Ray may be?”
The brothers explained as well as they could the nature of the phenomenon which had lately been drawn to the attention of the readers of the Morning Post.
“Pooh!” said Aristobulus, “it is a mere curiosity, of very little interest, which may be included in the somewhat childish domain of amusing physics.”
“Miss Campbell is but a young girl,” replied Sib, “and she seems to attach an exaggerated importance to this phenomenon—”
“For she declares she will never marry until she has seen it,” added Sam.
“Ah! well, gentlemen,” replied Aristobulus, “we will show her the Green Ray!”
Then all three, taking the lane through the fields alongside the shore, returned to the hotel.
Aristobulus did not lose this opportunity of observing to the brothers how women's minds were easily pleased with trifles, and he enlarged upon this subject, by dwelling at length upon all that must be done to raise the level of their neglected education, not that he thought their brain, which is less provided with cerebral matter than a man's, and very different in the arrangement of its cells, could ever attain to the intelligence of lofty speculations! But without going as far as that, perhaps it might be elevated by a special course of training; although ever since there had been women in the world, never had one of them distinguished herself by any of those discoveries which rendered illustrious Aristotle, Euclid, Harvey, Hahnemann, Pascal, Newton, Laplace, Arago, Humphrey Davy, Edison, and others.
Then he launched into an explanation of different physical phenomena, and discoursed of omni re scibili without any further mention of Miss Campbell.
The brothers listened to him attentively—all the more so perhaps as they were unable to get in a word during this monologue, which Aristobulus emphasized with imperious and pedantic hums and has!
When they were within a few paces of the hotel they stopped for a minute, to take leave of each other.
A young lady was standing at one of the hotel windows, and, with a disconcerted air, seemed to be looking in every direction for something.
All at once Miss Campbell—for she it was—caught sight of her uncles; the window was immediately closed and a few minutes later the young girl came to them on the beach, looking very grave and reproachful.
The brothers exchanged a glance. What was the matter with Helena? Was it the presence of Aristobulus which seemed to annoy her?
Meanwhile, the young savant had advanced, and was bowing stiffly to Miss Campbell.
“Mr. Ursiclos—” said the one brother, ceremoniously introducing him.
“Who, by the greatest chance, happens to be at Oban—” added Sib.
“Ah! Mr. Ursiclos?”
And Miss Campbell scarcely took the trouble to bow.
Then turning to her uncles, who felt very much embarrassed, and hardly knew which way to look,—
“Uncles?” she said sternly.
“Yes, dear Helena,” replied they both, somewhat uneasily.
“Are we really at Oban?”
“At Oban? certainly.”
“On the western coast?”
“Exactly.”
“Very well, then we shall not be here in an hour's time!”
“In an hour?”
“Did I not ask you to bring me where I could get a sea-horizon?”
“Of course you did, dear child.”
“Will you have the kindness to show me where it is?”
The brothers looked round and round in dismay.
Before them, neither to the south-west nor the north-east was there a single interval between the islands, where a line between the sea and sky was at all visible; Seil, Kerera, and Kismore formed a continuous barrier the whole distance, and they were obliged to confess that the horizon desired and promised was not to be found at Oban.
The brothers had not given it a thought, and as they walked along the beach, they made use of characteristic expressions inferring disappointment and ill-humour.
“Pooh!” said the one.
“Pshaw!” muttered the other.