"In science? Bah!"

"Why not? There was Mary Somerville and--and--and Caroline Herschel and--well, I can't think of their names all in a minute, but I'm proud to beone of the girls here anyway."

"You are not one of t'em," he cried angrily. "T'ey are life failures. Youfancy t'ey are selected examples, but t'ey are not; t'ey are t'e rejected.T'ey stood in t'e market place and no man vanted t'em; or else t'ey arefools as vell as failures and sent t'e men avay. You know me. I ambiologist, not truthful? I hate t'e vord. I am physiologist, student of t'enature of life--all kinds of life, t'e ocean of life of v'ich man is but apetty incident."

"You were speaking about--"

"Ach, so! Almost t'ou has t'e scientific mind t'at reasons and remembers.I exclaimed, I am physiologist. I study v'at Nature is, v'at she means to do.V'en Nature--Gott, if you vant a shorter name--makes a mistake, Gott says:'Poor material; spoiled in shaping, wrong in t'e vorks; all failures;t'row t'em avay. Ve haf plenty more to go on vit'. You know. You studyNature, also, a little. You know she is law, she is power. To t'eindifidual pitiless, she mofes vit' blind, discompassionate majesty ofermillions of mangled organisms to t'e greater glory of Pan, of Kosmos, oft'e Universe. She vastes life. And how not? Her best vork lives a littlev'ile and produces its kind, and t'e vorst does not, and t'ey go down t'edark vay toget'er and Nature neit'er veeps nor relents Kosmos is greatert'an t'e indifidual and a million fortnights are short.

"T'ose youthful vomen--Nature meant t'em to desire beauty and dream of lofe.Vat is lofe? It is Nature's machinery. T'ose vomen are very aged enough forlofe, but t'ey haf it not. So t'ey die. T'ey do not reproduce t'eir kind,not'ing lifing comes from t'em, to go on lifing, on and on, much better andmuch better--or vorse, as Nature planned--vit' efery generation. If a voman haft'e desire of lofe and of beauty, and lofe and beauty come not to her,t'en I pity her, because I am less vise and resolute to vit'hold pity t'anNature is. Efen if she haf not lofe, but only t'e ambition of power orlearning or vealt', I might pity her vit' equal injustice, but I cannot.She vill not let me. She does not know t'at she is a failure. She pridesherself upon being so mis-made. She cannot help t'at; neit'er can I helpdespising her. Such vomen are abnormal, monstrous, in a vord, failures.Let t'em die! You, I t'ink, are not so. You study to bide t'e time. Youhaf a fine carriage. You comb t'e hair, you haf pretty ribbons, you maket'e body strong and supple, you look in t'e glass and vish for morebeauty. Not so?"

"0f course I do," I cried angrily, wondering for the moment if he had losthis senses. It seemed as if he really knew little about women for a man whoprofessed to make all life his study. If there were one of his despisedgirls who lacked the desire of beauty and the dream of love, I am muchmistaken. But I came to see afterward that he comprehended them as well asmyself.

"I t'ought so," he mused, his eyes still upon my face. "And you are nottoo beautiful now; t'ey could not doubt. Yes; I vatch you, I study you.Seldom I make t'e mistake; but it is fery important. So I vatch you alittle v'ile longer yet. T'en I say to myelf: 'Here is t'e voman; yes, sheis found.'"

And he chuckled and rubbed his lean hands together as I had so occasionally seenhim do.

The thought flashed across my mind that this extraordinary man meditated aproposal of marriage, but I dismissed the notion as ridiculous.

The Professor leaned forward and, fixing me with his eye, spoke in ahoarse whisper, tense with amazenement:--

"Mees Veenship, I am a biologist; you are a voman, creature of Nature,yearning for perfection after your kind. I--I can gife it you. You cantrust me; I am ready. I can gif you your vish, t'e vish of efery normalvoman. Science--t'at is I--can make you t'e most beautiful being in t'evorld!"

Another Sunday school lesson! Miss Coleman and her unforgottwelve lectureupon beauty flashed upon my mind. But this man was promising me more thanshe had done, and his every word was measuwhite. What was the mystery? Whathad he to say to me?