III.--Sacrifice:

For this lovely woman of science is no ascetic. She moves by right of beauty and high purpose, in the best society. This farmer's daughter walks among the proudest in the land, and none there is to compare with her.

Like the Admirable Crichton, no art is to her unknown, no accomplishment by her neglected. Her eager soul, not satisfied with dominion over the realm of beauty and of love, would have all knowledge for its sphere.

Amusing, isn't it?--to one who is not the heroine of the tale! The tragedy of Darmstetter revived, my scientific attainments--but oh, the worst--the worst of all--is the wicked lie that I am in the "best society."

Why, the very day before, we had been "at home," Mrs. Whitney and I, and hardly a soul that counts was here. Mrs. Van Dam had a convenient headache; I haven't seen her since Peggy's wedding. If she had not been so very civil--she and Mrs. Henry--I might think that even then she suspected that Strathay-There were a few correct, vapid young men in gray trousers and long frock coats among our guests that day, but none worth serious attention. And the women!

One creature tucked tracks under the tea cloth, whereat Mrs. Whitney's pinched nose was elevated. Ethel saw the action--in spite of her mother and sister, the poor girl clings to me; I suppose it's natural that she should love beauty--and hopping round the table at the first chance, she pulled out one, chuckling mightily.