"So my election was for Science," he continued; "and if it makes me, as I fear, a rara avis among country gentlemen, it unites me, puts me in the main, I may say, in the only current of progress—a word sufficiently despicable in their political jargon.—You enjoyed your evening at Mrs. Mountstuart's?"
"Very greatly."
"She brings her Professor to dine here the day after tomorrow. Does it astonish you? You started."
"I did not hear the invitation."
"It was arranged at the table: you and I were separated—cruelly, I told her: she declared that we see enough of one another, and that it was good for me that we should be separated; neither of which is true. I may not have known what is the best for me: I do know what is good. If in my younger days I egregiously erred, that, taken of itself alone, is, assuming me to have sense and feeling, the surer proof of present wisdom. I can testify in person that wisdom is pain. If pain is to add to wisdom, let me suffer! Do you approve of that, Laetitia?"
"It is well said."
"It is felt. Those who themselves have suffered should know the benefit of the resolution."
"One may have suffered so much as to wish only for peace."
"True: but you! have you?"
"It would be for peace, if I prayed for any earthly gift."