A delightful correspondence ensued between Miss M‘Laren and Miss Du Pre, who knew each other but slightly:
“As you cannot be with Sophy,” writes Miss M‘Laren, “I would like very much to be with her, for she does really deserve all the help she can get when she has so much to do.... It would, as you know, be a great happiness to me to be with her, but I would not mind for myself at all. If you could only be with her, I would be quite happy not to be, feeling that it was not right for me to risk making family discomfort, just for myself. What do you honestly think? I would not of course think of troubling you about my concerns except as they concern Sophy.”
“All my instincts are against causing family sorrow and trouble,” writes Miss Du Pre in reply. “... but I cannot but think that in your case the trouble would not be permanent.
I think myself that studying new and difficult sciences and trying to help Sophy at the same time would be more than your strength would stand,—at least I know I could not do it myself. Though, on the other hand, it might be still more difficult to study at home where all sorts of family habits and calls upon one’s time make it so hard to do anything thoroughly.
I believe, if I were you, I would try to wear away by degrees the opposition of my parents, perhaps by going to help Sophy for a month or so, and then coming home again, being willing in the meantime to be present at any dinner party when they particularly needed my help, etc. I do think that people hate a plan so much less when the thought of it is no longer new and startling to them.... I cannot express to you how glad I shall be if you can see it to be right to go to Sophy, for I think your presence and help are exactly what she needs and needs sorely too. But you must not think that I only care about it for her sake, for it would be a great pleasure to me to think that you were enjoying her company and friendship.”
Of course Miss M‘Laren carried her point, and, if she never quite succeeded in persuading herself of her “vocation,” she left a large clientèle of patients in no doubt at all upon the subject.
CHAPTER XVI
END OF THE BATTLE IN EDINBURGH
The year 1873 is not one of the most dramatic in the history, but no other has a more impressive record of work done, of resolute determination to try every door, and to keep on trying.
It was becoming increasingly clear that—whatever the immediate issue of the lawsuit might be—a wider appeal must be made. Even S. J.-B. began to see that “no decision in our favour can give us the good will of the Medical Faculty”; and Mr. Stansfeld’s warm and appreciative interest in the question seemed to open a new door of hope. From this time forward the recurrence of his fine clear handwriting in the correspondence (brief though his letters are) is a constant reminder of how “Providence rescues and saves His elect inheritance” as “the dear Newman” would have said, though in another connection.
Mr. Stansfeld knew Professor Masson well, and probably began his acquaintance with S. J.-B. in no ignorance of her défauts,—the défauts that made so many timorous; but, like Masson, he was a strong man; like Masson he thought Carlyle was right in holding that “on the whole we make too much of faults”; and to the end of the long history he rejoiced wholeheartedly in the magnificent acumen and strength of Sophia Jex-Blake.