complaint against you. A want
of rapport with the deeper meanings of nature. Shall I say a want of
imagination. You do not feel an emotional thrill at the singing of
that thrush?"

"I confess that I am not conscious of one, Mrs. Esdaile."

"Or at the delicate tint of that background of leaves? See the rich
greens!"

"Chlorophyll," murmured the Professor.

"Science is so hopelessly prosaic. It dissects and labels, and loses
sight of the great things in its attention to the little ones. You
have a poor opinion of woman's intellect, Professor Grey. I think that
I have heard you say so."

"It is a question of avoirdupois," said the Professor, closing his eyes
and shrugging his shoulders. "The female cerebrum averages two ounces
less in weight than the male. No doubt there are exceptions. Nature
is always elastic."

"But the heaviest thing is not always the strongest," said Mrs.
O'James, laughing. "Isn't there a law of compensation in science? May
we not hope to make up in quality for what we lack in quantity?"

"I think not," remarked the Professor, gravely. "But there is your
luncheon-gong. No, thank you, Mrs. Esdaile, I cannot stay. My
carriage is waiting. Good-bye. Good-bye, Mrs. O'James."

He raised his hat and stalked slowly away among the laurel bushes.

"He has no taste," said Mrs. Esdaile--"no eye for beauty."

"On the contrary," Mrs. O'James answered, with a saucy little jerk of
the chin. "He has just asked me to be his wife."

As Professor Ainslie Grey ascended the steps of his house, the
hall-door opened and a dapper gentleman stepped briskly out. He was
somewhat sallow in the face, with dark, beady eyes, and a short, black
beard with an aggressive bristle. Thought and work had left their
traces upon his face, but he moved with the brisk activity of a man who
had not yet bade good-bye to his youth.

"I'm in luck's way," he cried. "I wanted to see you."

"Then come back into the library," said the Professor; "you must stay
and have lunch with us."

The two men entered the hall, and the Professor led the way into his
private sanctum. He motioned his companion into an arm-chair.

"I trust that you have been successful, O'Brien," said he. "I should
be loath to exercise any undue pressure upon my sister Ada; but I have
given her to understand that there is no one whom I should prefer for a
brother-in-law to my most brilliant scholar, the author of Some Remarks
upon the Bile-