She was wedded to learning.
Fretted by the pain, he plunged into the wilderness to hide like a wounded
deer.
What shall be said of this beautiful woman, for whom men sigh as for the
unattainable? That she is lovely as the morning? All New York knows it.
That her walk is like a lily's swaying in the wind, her voice is the
sweetest music that ever ravished ear, her hair a lure for sunbeams? It is
the commonplace of conversation at every smart house.
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.
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