FOR TUTOR FAITH

In the latter part o the last century there lived a man o science, an emi­

nent procient in every branch o natural philosophy, who not long beore

our story opens had made experience o a spiritual anity more attrac­

tive than any chemical one. He had let his laboratory to the care o an

assistant, cleared his ne countenance rom the urnace smoke, washed

the stain o acids rom his ngers, and persuaded a beautiul woman to

become his wie. In those days when the comparatively recent discovery

o electricity and other kindred mysteries o Nature seemed to open paths

into the region o miracle, it was not unusual or the love o science to rival

the love o woman in its depth and absorbing energy. The higher intellect,

the imagination, the spirit, and even the heart might all nd their conge­

nial aliment in pursuits which, as some o their ardent votaries believed,

would ascend rom one step o powerul intelligence to another, until the

philosopher should lay his hand on the secret o creative orce and perhaps

make new worlds or himsel. We know not whether Aylmer possessed this

degree o aith in man’s ultimate control over Nature. He had devoted

himsel, however, too unreservedly to scientic studies ever to be weaned

rom them by any second passion. His love or his young wie might prove

the stronger o the two; but it could only be by intertwining itsel with his

love o science, and uniting the strength o the latter to his own.

Such a union accordingly took place, and was attended with truly

remarkable consequences and a deeply impressive moral. One day, very

soon ater their marriage, Aylmer sat gazing at his wie with a trouble in

his countenance that grew stronger until he spoke.

“Georgiana,” said he, “has it never occurred to you that the mark

upon your cheek might be removed?”

“No, indeed,” said she, smiling; but perceiving the seriousness o his

manner, she blushed deeply. “To tell you the truth it has been so oten

called a charm that I was simple enough to imagine it might be so.”

“Ah, upon another ace perhaps it might,” replied her husband; “but

never on yours. No, dearest Georgiana, you came so nearly perect rom

the hand o Nature that this slightest possible deect, which we hesitate

whether to term a deect or a beauty, shocks me, as being the visible mark

o earthly imperection.”

“Shocks you, my husband!” cried Georgiana, deeply hurt; at rst

reddening with momentary anger, but then bursting into tears. “Then

why did you take me rom my mother’s side? You cannot love what

shocks you!”

To explain this conversation it must be mentioned that in the

center o Georgiana’s let cheek there was a singular mark, deeply inter­

woven, as it were, with the texture and substance o her ace. In the usual

state o her complexion — a healthy though delicate bloom — the mark

wore a tint o deeper crimson, which imperectly dened its shape amid

the surrounding rosiness. When she blushed it gradually became more indistinct, and nally vanished amid the triumphant rush o blood that

bathed the whole cheek with its brilliant glow. But i any shiting motion

caused her to turn pale, there was the mark again, a crimson stain upon

the snow, in what Aylmer sometimes deemed an almost earul distinct­

ness. Its shape bore not a little similarity to the human hand, though o

the smallest pygmy size. Georgiana’s lovers were wont to say that some

airy at her birth hour had laid her tiny hand upon the inant’s cheek,

and let this impress there in token o the magic endowments that were

to give her such sway over all hearts. Many a desperate swain would

have risked lie or the privilege o pressing his lips to the mysterious

hand. It must not be concealed, however, that the impression wrought

by this airy sign manual varied exceedingly, according to the dierence

o temperament in the beholders. Some astidious persons — but they

were exclusively o her own sex — armed that the bloody hand, as they

chose to call it, quite destroyed the eect o Georgiana’s beauty, and ren­

dered her countenance even hideous. But it would be as reasonable to

say that one o those small blue stains which sometimes occur in the

purest statuary marble would convert the Eve o Powers to a monster.

Masculine observers, i the birthmark did not heighten their admiration,

contented themselves with wishing it away, that the world might pos­

sess one living specimen o ideal loveliness without the semblance o a

faw. Ater his marriage, — or he thought little or nothing o the matter

beore, — Aylmer discovered that this was the case with himsel.

Had she been less beautiul, — i Envy’s sel could have ound aught

else to sneer at, — he might have elt his aection heightened by the pret­

tiness o this mimic hand, now vaguely portrayed, now lost, now stealing

orth again and glimmering to and ro with every pulse o emotion that

throbbed within her heart; but seeing her otherwise so perect, he ound

this one deect grow more and more intolerable with every moment

o their united lives. It was the atal faw o humanity which Nature, in

one shape or another, stamps ineaceably on all her productions, either

to imply that they are temporary and nite, or that their perection must

be wrought by toil and pain. The crimson hand expressed the ineludible

gripe° in which mortality clutches the highest and purest o earthly

mold, degrading them into kindred with the lowest, and even with the

very brutes, like whom their visible rames return to dust. In this man­

ner, selecting it as the symbol o his wie’s liability to sin, sorrow, decay,

and death, Aylmer’s somber imagination was not long in rendering the

birthmark a rightul object, causing him more trouble and horror than

ever Georgiana’s beauty, whether o soul or sense, had given him delight.

At all the seasons which should have been their happiest, he invari­

ably and without intending it, nay, in spite o a purpose to the contrary,

reverted to this one disastrous topic. Trifing as it at rst appeared, it so

connected itsel with innumerable trains o thought and modes o eeling

that it became the central point o all. With the morning twilight Aylmer

opened his eyes upon his wie’s ace and recognized the symbol o imper­

ection; and when they sat together at the evening hearth his eyes wan­

dered stealthily to her cheek, and beheld, fickering with the blaze o the

wood re, the spectral hand that wrote mortality where he would ain have

worshiped. Georgiana soon learned to shudder at his gaze. It needed but a

glance with the peculiar expression that his ace oten wore to change the

roses o her cheek into a deathlike paleness, amid which the crimson hand

was brought strongly out, like a bas­relie o ruby on the whitest marble.

Late one night when the lights were growing dim, so as hardly to

betray the stain on the poor wie’s cheek, she hersel, or the rst time,

voluntarily took up the subject.

“Do you remember, my dear Aylmer,” said she, with a eeble attempt

at a smile, “have you any recollection o a dream last night about this

odious hand?”

“None! none whatever!” replied Aylmer, starting; but then he added,

in a dry, cold tone, aected or the sake o concealing the real depth o

his emotion, “I might well dream o it; or beore I ell asleep it had taken

a pretty rm hold o my ancy.”

“And you did dream o it?” continued Georgiana hastily, or she

dreaded lest a gush o tears should interrupt what she had to say. “A ter­

rible dream! I wonder that you can orget it. Is it possible to orget this

one expression? — ‘It is in her heart now; we must have it out!’ Refect, my

husband; or by all means I would have you recall that dream.”

The mind is in a sad state when Sleep, the all­involving, cannot conne

her specters within the dim region o her sway, but suers them to break

orth, arighting this actual lie with secrets that perchance belong to a

deeper one. Aylmer now remembered his dream. He had ancied himsel with

his servant Aminadab, attempting an operation or the removal o the birth­

mark; but the deeper went the knie, the deeper sank the hand, until at length

its tiny grasp appeared to have caught hold o Georgiana’s heart; whence,

however, her husband was inexorably resolved to cut or wrench it away.

When the dream had shaped itsel perectly in his memory, Aylmer

sat in his wie’s presence with a guilty eeling. Truth oten nds its

way to the mind close mufed in robes o sleep, and then speaks with

uncompromising directness o matters in regard to which we practice

an unconscious sel­deception during our waking moments. Until now

he had not been aware o the tyrannizing infuence acquired by one idea

over his mind, and o the lengths which he might nd in his heart to go

or the sake o giving himsel peace.

“Aylmer,” resumed Georgiana solemnly, “I know not what may

be the cost to both o us to rid me o this atal birthmark. Perhaps its

removal may cause cureless deormity; or it may be the stain goes as deep

as lie itsel. Again: do we know that there is a possibility, on any terms,

o unclasping the rm grip o this little hand which was laid upon me

beore I came into the world?” “Dearest Georgiana, I have spent much thought upon the subject,”

hastily interrupted Aylmer. “I am convinced o the perect practicability

o its removal.”

“I there be the remotest possibility o it,” continued Georgiana,

“let the attempt be made at whatever risk. Danger is nothing to me; or

lie, while this hateul mark makes me the object o your horror and dis­

gust, — lie is a burden which I would fing down with joy. Either remove

this dreadul hand, or take my wretched lie! You have deep science. All

the world bears witness o it. You have achieved great wonders. Cannot

you remove this little, little mark, which I cover with the tips o two small

ngers? Is this beyond your power, or the sake o your own peace, and to

save your poor wie rom madness?”

“Noblest, dearest, tenderest wie,” cried Aylmer rapturously, “doubt not

my power. I have already given this matter the deepest thought — thought

which might almost have enlightened me to create a being less perect than

yoursel. Georgiana, you have led me deeper than ever into the heart o sci­

ence. I eel mysel ully competent to render this dear cheek as aultless as its

ellow; and then, most beloved, what will be my triumph when I shall have

corrected what Nature let imperect in her airest work! Even Pygmalion,

when his sculptured woman assumed lie, elt not greater ecstasy than mine

will be.”

“It is resolved, then,” said Georgiana, aintly smiling. “And, Aylmer,

spare me not, though you should nd the birthmark take reuge in my

heart at last.”

Her husband tenderly kissed her cheek — her right cheek — not that

which bore the impress o the crimson hand.

The next day Aylmer apprised his wie o a plan that he had ormed

whereby he might have opportunity or the intense thought and constant

watchulness which the proposed operation would require; while Geor­

giana, likewise, would enjoy the perect repose essential to its success.

They were to seclude themselves in the extensive apartments occupied

by Aylmer as a laboratory, and where, during his toilsome youth, he had

made discoveries in the elemental powers o Nature that had roused the

admiration o all the learned societies in Europe. Seated calmly in this

laboratory, the pale philosopher had investigated the secrets o the high­

est cloud region and o the prooundest mines; he had satised himsel

o the causes that kindled and kept alive the res o the volcano; and had

explained the mystery o ountains, and how it is that they gush orth,

some so bright and pure, and others with such rich medicinal virtues,

rom the dark bosom o the earth. Here, too, at an earlier period, he had

studied the wonders o the human rame, and attempted to athom the

very process by which Nature assimilates all her precious infuences rom

earth and air, and rom the spiritual world, to create and oster man, her

masterpiece. The latter pursuit, however, Aylmer had long laid aside in

unwilling recognition o the truth — against which all seekers sooner

or later stumble — that our great creative Mother, while she amuses us with apparently working in the broadest sunshine, is yet severely careul

to keep her own secrets, and, in spite o her pretended openness, shows

us nothing but results. She permits us, indeed, to mar, but seldom to

mend, and, like a jealous patentee, on no account to make. Now, however,

Aylmer resumed these hal­orgotten investigations, — not, o course, with

such hopes or wishes as rst suggested them, but because they involved

much physiological truth and lay in the path o his proposed scheme or

the treatment o Georgiana.

As he led her over the threshold o the laboratory, Georgiana was

cold and tremulous. Aylmer looked cheerully into her ace, with intent

to reassure her, but was so startled with the intense glow o the birth­

mark upon the whiteness o her cheek that he could not restrain a strong

convulsive shudder. His wie ainted.

“Aminadab! Aminadab!” shouted Aylmer, stamping violently on the

foor.

Forthwith there issued rom an inner apartment a man o low stat­

ure, but bulky rame, with shaggy hair hanging about his visage, which

was grimed with the vapors o the urnace. This personage had been

Aylmer’s underworker during his whole scientic career, and was admi­

rably tted or that oce by his great mechanical readiness, and the skill

with which, while incapable o comprehending a single principle, he exe­

cuted all the details o his master’s experiments. With his vast strength,

his shaggy hair, his smoky aspect, and the indescribable earthiness that

encrusted him, he seemed to represent man’s physical nature; while

Aylmer’s slender gure, and pale, intellectual ace, were no less apt a type

o the spiritual element.

“Throw open the door o the boudoir, Aminadab,” said Aylmer, “and

burn a pastille.”

“Yes, master,” answered Aminadab, looking intently at the lieless

orm o Georgiana; and then he muttered to himsel, “I she were my

wie, I’d never part with that birthmark.”

When Georgiana recovered consciousness she ound hersel breath­

ing an atmosphere o penetrating ragrance, the gentle potency o which

had recalled her rom her deathlike aintness. The scene around her

looked like enchantment. Aylmer had converted those smoky, dingy,

somber rooms, where he had spent his brightest years in recondite pur­

suits, into a series o beautiul apartments not unt to be the secluded

abode o a lovely woman. The walls were hung with gorgeous curtains,

which imparted the combination o grandeur and grace that no other

species o adornment can achieve; and as they ell rom the ceiling to the

foor, their rich and ponderous olds, concealing all angles and straight

lines, appeared to shut in the scene rom innite space. For aught

Georgiana knew, it might be a pavilion among the clouds. And Aylmer,

excluding the sunshine, which would have interered with his chemical

processes, had supplied its place with perumed lamps, emitting fames

o various hue, but all uniting in a sot, empurpled radiance. He now knelt by his wie’s side, watching her earnestly, but without alarm; or he

was condent in his science, and elt that he could draw a magic circle

round her within which no evil might intrude.

“Where am I? Ah, I remember,” said Georgiana aintly; and she

placed her hand over her cheek to hide the terrible mark rom her hus­

band’s eyes.

“Fear not, dearest!” exclaimed he. “Do not shrink rom me! Believe

me, Georgiana, I even rejoice in this single imperection, since it will be

such a rapture to remove it.”

“Oh, spare me!” sadly replied his wie. “Pray do not look at it again. I

never can orget that convulsive shudder.”

In order to soothe Georgiana, and, as it were, to release her mind

rom the burden o actual things, Aylmer now put in practice some o

the light and playul secrets which science had taught him among its

proounder lore. Airy gures, absolutely bodiless ideas, and orms o

unsubstantial beauty came and danced beore her, imprinting their

momentary ootsteps on beams o light. Though she had some indis­

tinct idea o the method o these optical phenomena, still the illusion

was almost perect enough to warrant the belie that her husband pos­

sessed sway over the spiritual world. Then again, when she elt a wish

to look orth rom her seclusion, immediately, as i her thoughts were

answered, the procession o external existence fitted across a screen. The

scenery and the gures o actual lie were perectly represented, but with

that bewitching, yet indescribable dierence which always makes a pic­

ture, an image, or a shadow so much more attractive than the original.

When wearied o this, Aylmer bade her cast her eyes upon a vessel con­

taining a quantity o earth. She did so, with little interest at rst; but was

soon startled to perceive the germ o a plant shooting upward rom the

soil. Then came the slender stalk; the leaves gradually unolded them­

selves; and amid them was a perect and lovely fower.

“It is magical!” cried Georgiana. “I dare not touch it.”

“Nay, pluck it,” answered Aylmer: “pluck it, and inhale its brie per­

ume while you may. The fower will wither in a ew moments and leave

nothing save its brown seed vessels; but thence may be perpetuated a race

as ephemeral as itsel.”

But Georgiana had no sooner touched the fower than the whole

plant suered a blight, its leaves turning coal­black as i by the agency

o re.

“There was too powerul a stimulus,” said Aylmer thoughtully.

To make up or this abortive experiment, he proposed to take her

portrait by a scientic process o his own invention. It was to be eected

by rays o light striking upon a polished plate o metal. Georgiana

assented; but, on looking at the result, was arighted to nd the ea­

tures o the portrait blurred and indenable; while the minute gure o

a hand appeared where the cheek should have been. Aylmer snatched the

metallic plate and threw it into a jar o corrosive acid Soon, however, he orgot these mortiying ailures. In the intervals

o study and chemical experiment he came to her fushed and exhausted,

but seemed invigorated by her presence, and spoke in glowing language

o the resources o his art. He gave a history o the long dynasty o the

alchemists, who spent so many ages in quest o the universal solvent by

which the golden principle might be elicited rom all things vile and

base. Aylmer appeared to believe that, by the plainest scientic logic,

it was altogether within the limits o possibility to discover this long­

sought medium; “but,” he added, “a philosopher who should go deep

enough to acquire the power would attain too loty a wisdom to stoop

to the exercise o it.” Not less singular were his opinions in regard to the

elixir vitae. He more than intimated that it was at his option to concoct a

liquid that should prolong lie or years, perhaps interminably; but that

it would produce a discord in Nature which all the world, and chiefy the

quaer o the immortal nostrum, would nd cause to curse.

“Aylmer, are you in earnest?” asked Georgiana, looking at him with

amazement and ear. “It is terrible to possess such power, or even to

dream o possessing it.”

“Oh, do not tremble, my love,” said her husband. “I would not

wrong either you or mysel by working such inharmonious eects upon

our lives; but I would have you consider how trifing, in comparison, is

the skill requisite to remove this little hand.”

At the mention o the birthmark, Georgiana, as usual, shrank as i a

red­hot iron had touched her cheek.

Again Aylmer applied himsel to his labors. She could hear his voice

in the distant urnace­room giving directions to Aminadab, whose harsh,

uncouth, misshapen tones were audible in response, more like the grunt

or growl o a brute than human speech. Ater hours o absence, Aylmer

reappeared and proposed that she should now examine his cabinet o

chemical products and natural treasures o the earth. Among the ormer

he showed her a small vial, in which, he remarked, was contained a gentle

yet most powerul ragrance, capable o impregnating all the breezes that

blow across a kingdom. They were o inestimable value, the contents o

that little vial; and, as he said so, he threw some o the perume into the

air and lled the room with piercing and invigorating delight.

“And what is this?” asked Georgiana, pointing to a small crystal

globe containing a gold­colored liquid. “It is so beautiul to the eye that I

could imagine it the elixir o lie.”

“In one sense it is,” replied Aylmer; “or rather, the elixir o immor­

tality. It is the most precious poison that ever was concocted in this

world. By its aid I could apportion the lietime o any mortal at whom

you might point your nger. The strength o the dose would determine

whether he were to linger out years, or drop dead in the midst o a breath.

No king on his guarded throne could keep his lie i I, in my private sta­

tion, should deem that the welare o millions justied me in depriving

him o it.” “Why do you keep such a terric drug?” inquired Georgiana in

horror.

“Do not mistrust me, dearest,” said her husband, smiling; “its virtu­

ous potency is yet greater than its harmul one. But see! here is a power­

ul cosmetic. With a ew drops o this in a vase o water, reckles may

be washed away as easily as the hands are cleansed. A stronger inusion

would take the blood out o the cheek, and leave the rosiest beauty a pale

ghost.”

“Is it with this lotion that you intend to bathe my cheek?” asked

Georgiana, anxiously.

“Oh, no,” hastily replied her husband; “this is merely supercial.

Your case demands a remedy that shall go deeper.”

In his interviews with Georgiana, Aylmer generally made minute

inquiries as to her sensations and whether the connement o the rooms

and the temperature o the atmosphere agreed with her. These questions

had such a particular drit that Georgiana began to conjecture that she

was already subjected to certain physical infuences, either breathed in

with the ragrant air or taken with her ood. She ancied likewise, but it

might be altogether ancy, that there was a stirring up o her system — a

strange, indenite sensation creeping through her veins, and tingling,

hal painully, hal pleasurably, at her heart. Still, whenever she dared to

look into the mirror, there she beheld hersel pale as a white rose and

with the crimson birthmark stamped upon her cheek. Not even Aylmer

now hated it so much as she.

To dispel the tedium o the hours which her husband ound it

necessary to devote to the processes o combination and analysis, Geor­

giana turned over the volumes o his scientic library. In many dark old

tomes she met with chapters ull o romance and poetry. They were the

works o the philosophers o the middle ages, such as Albertus Magnus,

Cornelius Agrippa, Paracelsus, and the amous riar who created the

prophetic Brazen Head. All these antique naturalists stood in advance o

their centuries, yet were imbued with some o their credulity, and there­

ore were believed, and perhaps imagined themselves to have acquired

rom the investigation o Nature a power above Nature, and rom physics

a sway over the spiritual world. Hardly less curious and imaginative were

the early volumes o the Transactions o the Royal Society, in which the

members, knowing little o the limits o natural possibility, were contin­

ually recording wonders or proposing methods whereby wonders might

be wrought.

But to Georgiana the most engrossing volume was a large olio rom

her husband’s own hand, in which he had recorded every experiment o

his scientic career, its original aim, the methods adopted or its devel­

opment, and its nal success or ailure, with the circumstances to which

either event was attributable. The book, in truth, was both the history

and emblem o his ardent, ambitious, imaginative, yet practical and labo­

rious lie. He handled physical details as i there were nothing beyond them; yet spiritualized them all, and redeemed himsel rom materialism

by his strong and eager aspiration towards the innite. In his grasp the

veriest clod o earth assumed a soul. Georgiana, as she read, reverenced

Aylmer and loved him more prooundly than ever, but with a less entire

dependence on his judgment than heretoore. Much as he had accom­

plished, she could not but observe that his most splendid successes

were almost invariably ailures, i compared with the ideal at which he

aimed. His brightest diamonds were the merest pebbles, and elt to be

so by himsel, in comparison with the inestimable gems which lay hid­

den beyond his reach. The volume, rich with achievements that had won

renown or its author, was yet as melancholy a record as ever mortal hand

had penned. It was the sad conession and continual exemplication o

the shortcomings o the composite man, the spirit burdened with clay

and working in matter, and o the despair that assails the higher nature

at nding itsel so miserably thwarted by the earthly part. Perhaps every

man o genius in whatever sphere might recognize the image o his own

experience in Aylmer’s journal.

So deeply did these refections aect Georgiana that she laid her ace

upon the open volume and burst into tears. In this situation she was

ound by her husband.

“It is dangerous to read in a sorcerer’s books,” said he with a smile,

though his countenance was uneasy and displeased. “Georgiana, there

are pages in that volume which I can scarcely glance over and keep my

senses. Take heed lest it prove as detrimental to you.”

“It has made me worship you more than ever,” said she.

“Ah, wait or this one success,” rejoined he, “then worship me i you

will. I shall deem mysel hardly unworthy o it. But come, I have sought

you or the luxury o your voice. Sing to me, dearest.”

So she poured out the liquid music o her voice to quench the thirst o

his spirit. He then took his leave with a boyish exuberance o gaiety, assur­

ing her that her seclusion would endure but a little longer, and that the

result was already certain. Scarcely had he departed when Georgiana elt

irresistibly impelled to ollow him. She had orgotten to inorm Aylmer

o a symptom which or two or three hours past had begun to excite her

attention. It was a sensation in the atal birthmark, not painul, but which

induced a restlessness throughout her system. Hastening ater her hus­

band, she intruded or the rst time into the laboratory.

The rst thing that struck her eye was the urnace, that hot and

everish worker, with the intense glow o its re, which by the quanti­

ties o soot clustered above it seemed to have been burning or ages.

There was a distilling apparatus in ull operation. Around the room

were retorts, tubes, cylinders, crucibles, and other apparatus o chemi­

cal research. An electrical machine stood ready or immediate use. The

atmosphere elt oppressively close, and was tainted with gaseous odors

which had been tormented orth by the processes o science. The severe

and homely simplicity o the apartment, with its naked walls and brick pavement, looked strange, accustomed as Georgiana had become to the

antastic elegance o her boudoir. But what chiefy, indeed almost solely,

drew her attention, was the aspect o Aylmer himsel.

He was pale as death, anxious and absorbed, and hung over the ur­

nace as i it depended upon his utmost watchulness whether the liquid

which it was distilling should be the draught o immortal happiness or

misery. How dierent rom the sanguine and joyous mien that he had

assumed or Georgiana’s encouragement!

“Careully now, Aminadab; careully, thou human machine; care­

ully, thou man o clay!” muttered Aylmer, more to himsel than his

assistant. “Now, i there be a thought too much or too little, it is all over.”

“Ho! ho!” mumbled Aminadab. “Look, master! look!”

Aylmer raised his eyes hastily, and at rst reddened, then grew paler

than ever, on beholding Georgiana. He rushed towards her and seized

her arm with a gripe that let the print o his ngers upon it.

“Why do you come hither? Have you no trust in your husband?”

cried he impetuously. “Would you throw the blight o that atal birth­

mark over my labors? It is not well done. Go, prying woman, go!”

“Nay, Aylmer,” said Georgiana with the rmness o which she

possessed no stinted endowment, “it is not you that have a right to

complain. You mistrust your wie; you have concealed the anxiety with

which you watch the development o this experiment. Think not so

unworthily o me, my husband. Tell me all the risk we run, and ear not

that I shall shrink; or my share in it is ar less than your own.”

“No, no, Georgiana!” said Aylmer impatiently; “it must not be.”

“I submit,” replied she calmly. “And, Aylmer, I shall qua whatever

draught you bring me; but it will be on the same principle that would

induce me to take a dose o poison i oered by your hand.”

“My noble wie,” said Aylmer, deeply moved, “I knew not the height

and depth o your nature until now. Nothing shall be concealed. Know,

then, that this crimson hand, supercial as it seems, has clutched its

grasp into your being with a strength o which I had no previous concep­

tion. I have already administered agents powerul enough to do aught

except to change your entire physical system. Only one thing remains to

be tried. I that ails us we are ruined.”

“Why did you hesitate to tell me this?” asked she.

“Because, Georgiana,” said Aylmer in a low voice, “there is danger.”

“Danger? There is but one danger — that this horrible stigma shall

be let upon my cheek!” cried Georgiana. “Remove it, remove it, whatever

be the cost, or we shall both go mad!”

“Heaven knows your words are too true,” said Aylmer sadly. “And

now, dearest, return to your boudoir. In a little while all will be tested.”

He conducted her back and took leave o her with a solemn tender­

ness which spoke ar more than his words how much was now at stake.

Ater his departure Georgiana became rapt in musings. She considered

the character o Aylmer, and did it completer justice than at any previous moment. Her heart exulted, while it trembled, at his honorable love — so

pure and loty that it would accept nothing less than perection nor

miserably make itsel contented with an earthlier nature than he had

dreamed o. She elt how much more precious was such a sentiment than

that meaner kind which would have borne with the imperection or her

sake, and have been guilty o treason to holy love by degrading its perect

idea to the level o the actual; and with her whole spirit she prayed that,

or a single moment, she might satisy his highest and deepest concep­

tion. Longer than one moment she well knew it could not be; or his

spirit was ever on the march, ever ascending, and each instant required

something that was beyond the scope o the instant beore.

The sound o her husband’s ootsteps aroused her. He bore a crystal

goblet containing a liquor colorless as water, but bright enough to be the

draught o immortality. Aylmer was pale; but it seemed rather the con­

sequence o a highly wrought state o mind and tension o spirit than o

ear or doubt.

“The concoction o the draught has been perect,” said he, in

answer to Georgiana’s look. “Unless all my science have deceived me, it

cannot ail.”

“Save on your account, my dearest Aylmer,” observed his wie,

“I might wish to put o this birthmark o mortality by relinquishing

mortality itsel in preerence to any other mode. Lie is but a sad posses­

sion to those who have attained precisely the degree o moral advance­

ment at which I stand. Were I weaker and blinder it might be happiness.

Were I stronger, it might be endured hopeully. But, being what I nd

mysel, methinks I am o all mortals the most t to die.”

“You are t or heaven without tasting death!” replied her husband.

“But why do we speak o dying? The draught cannot ail. Behold its

eect upon this plant.”

On the window seat there stood a geranium diseased with yellow

blotches, which had overspread all its leaves. Aylmer poured a small

quantity o the liquid upon the soil in which it grew. In a little time,

when the roots o the plant had taken up the moisture, the unsightly

blotches began to be extinguished in a living verdure.

“There needed no proo,” said Georgiana quietly. “Give me the gob­

let. I joyully stake all upon your word.”

“Drink, then, thou loty creature!” exclaimed Aylmer, with ervid

admiration. “There is no taint o imperection on thy spirit. Thy sensible

rame, too, shall soon be all perect.”

She quaed the liquid and returned the goblet to his hand.

“It is grateul,” said she, with a placid smile. “Methinks it is like

water rom a heavenly ountain; or it contains I know not what o

unobtrusive ragrance and deliciousness. It allays a everish thirst that

had parched me or many days. Now, dearest, let me sleep. My earthly

senses are closing over my spirit like the leaves around the heart o a

rose at sunset.” She spoke the last words with a gentle reluctance, as i it required

almost more energy than she could command to pronounce the

aint and lingering syllables. Scarcely had they loitered through her

lips ere she was lost in slumber. Aylmer sat by her side, watching her

aspect with the emotions proper to a man the whole value o whose

existence was involved in the process now to be tested. Mingled with

this mood, however, was the philosophic investigation characteris­

tic o the man o science. Not the minutest symptom escaped him. A

heightened fush o the cheek, a slight irregularity o breath, a quiver

o the eyelid, a hardly perceptible tremor through the rame — such

were the details which, as the moments passed, he wrote down in his

olio volume. Intense thought had set its stamp upon every previous

page o that volume, but the thoughts o years were all concentrated

upon the last.

While thus employed, he ailed not to gaze oten at the atal hand,

and not without a shudder. Yet once, by a strange and unaccountable

impulse, he pressed it with his lips. His spirit recoiled, however, in the

very act; and Georgiana, out o the midst o her deep sleep, moved

uneasily and murmured as i in remonstrance. Again Aylmer resumed

his watch. Nor was it without avail. The crimson hand, which at rst

had been strongly visible upon the marble paleness o Georgiana’s

cheek, now grew more aintly outlined. She remained not less pale

than ever; but the birthmark, with every breath that came and went,

lost somewhat o its ormer distinctness. Its presence had been awul;

its departure was more awul still. Watch the stain o the rainbow ad­

ing out o the sky, and you will know how that mysterious symbol

passed away.

“By Heaven! it is well­nigh gone!” said Aylmer to himsel, in almost

irrepressible ecstasy. “I can scarcely trace it now. Success! success! And

now it is like the aintest rose color. The lightest fush o blood across her

cheek would overcome it. But she is so pale!”

He drew aside the window curtain and suered the light o natural

day to all into the room and rest upon her cheek. At the same time he

heard a gross, hoarse chuckle, which he had long known as his servant

Aminadab’s expression o delight.

“Ah, clod! ah, earthly mass!” cried Aylmer, laughing in a sort o renzy,

“you have served me well! Matter and spirit — earth and heaven — have

both done their part in this! Laugh, thing o the senses! You have earned

the right to laugh.”

These exclamations broke Georgiana’s sleep. She slowly unclosed

her eyes and gazed into the mirror which her husband had arranged or

that purpose. A aint smile fitted over her lips when she recognized how

barely perceptible was now that crimson hand which had once blazed

orth with such disastrous brilliancy as to scare away all their happiness.

But then her eyes sought Aylmer’s ace with a trouble and anxiety that he

could by no means account or. “My poor Aylmer!” murmured she.

“Poor? Nay, richest, happiest, most avored!” exclaimed he. “My

peerless bride, it is successul! You are perect!”

“My poor Aylmer,” she repeated, with a more than human tender­

ness, “you have aimed lotily; you have done nobly. Do not repent that

with so high and pure a eeling, you have rejected the best the earth

could oer. Aylmer, dearest Aylmer, I am dying!”

Alas! it was too true! The atal hand had grappled with the mystery

o lie, and was the bond by which an angelic spirit kept itsel in union

with a mortal rame. As the last crimson tint o the birthmark — that sole

token o human imperection — aded rom her cheek, the parting breath

o the now perect woman passed into the atmosphere, and her soul, lin­

gering a moment near her husband, took its heavenward fight. Then a

hoarse, chuckling laugh was heard again! Thus ever does the gross ata­

lity o earth exult in its invariable triumph over the immortal essence

which, in this dim sphere o hal development, demands the complete­

ness o a higher state. Yet, had Aylmer reached a proounder wisdom, he

need not thus have fung away the happiness which would have woven

his mortal lie o the selsame texture with the celestial. The momentary

circumstance was too strong or him; he ailed to look beyond the shad­

owy scope o time, and, living once or all in eternity, to nd the perect

uture in the present.