June 7th.—It has come! and I half expected it. My eager pupil writes with all the energy and love of his noble nature to ask me to be his wife! He says that is all he cares for, and only values his Honours as a step to a higher honour and dignity, that of gaining my love and being my husband. All this is very nice to read; but a terribly difficult problem is placed before me for solution. I do indeed love this dear, good fellow—no one could help doing so, I am sure; but do I not love science more? There is a stringent regulation in this University that no one shall occupy the position of professor who is bound by any domestic ties or cares. All married women are excluded. If I say ‘Yes,’ I must resign my high position, leave this beloved college, give no more lectures to entranced audiences. In the interests of science, ought I to refuse, and [129] sacrifice my heart’s affections for the cause of mathematics? But if I say ‘No,’ I must give up—him; sacrifice his happiness too, and blight his life. Was ever anyone so perplexed? Science, aid thine obedient servant! May I not determine this vital question by thine all-pervading light?…
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[Editorial Note.]—We had just arrived at this exciting moment in the life of the learned and accomplished lady whose writings form the subject of these pages—a moment when love and science were trembling in the balance—when a footstep was heard upon the stairs leading to our study, and ere we could secrete our MS. the door was opened, and a well-known voice exclaimed:
‘I do not know why you should have become so studious lately, Ernest, and why you should refuse to take me into your confidence. You spend hours and hours in this room all by yourself, writing away, and never say a word to me about the subject of your literary work. There [130] was a time when things were different, and you were not so slow in availing yourself of my help, and asking my advice.’
We murmured something about taking up the pen which had been laid aside by a far abler hand, and our deep gratitude for past assistance in our work, which could never be forgotten.
‘And do you think that I cannot help you now?’ our visitor replied, in a very injured tone of voice. ‘Is the old power dead, because it has not recently been used? Ernest, I think you very ungrateful not to confide in me. Come, tell me what you are writing.’
A suggestion about the proverbial curiosity of women rose to our lips, but died away without utterance. In the meantime, her eyes wandered over our study-table strewed with papers, and lighted upon the well-worn desk.
‘Why, Ernest, where did you find this? My dear old desk, which has been lost ever so long! I do believe you have been ransacking its contents! Why did you [131] not tell me that you had found it? What are you doing with my papers, sir?’
The mischief was out! We tried to explain that the world ought not to be deprived of that which would benefit mankind; that the peace and prosperity of the country might be sacrificed if it were deprived of these discoveries of science, which were calculated to secure such beneficial results.
At length we gained our point, and obtained the full sanction of the late Lady Professor of Girtham College to publish her papers. Thus her obedient pupil is enabled to repay his late instructress for all her kindness to him, and in some measure to compensate the scientific and political world for the loss of one of its most original investigators in the regions of polemical studies, which, not without a struggle, she resigned when she deigned to become his wife.