is just out, and my hard-working pupil
is _bracketed twelfth!_ This is really delightful, and abundantly repays
us for all our hard toil. But really I have not found working with him
distasteful; he is such an excellent pupil, so painstaking and eager,
that I have quite looked forward to his coming, and found him much more
interesting than some of these foolish maidens. But I almost dread
seeing him. He will be so elated and overpoweringly grateful, whereas I
ought to be grateful to him for all his work for me; for I am sure he
would never have gone in for the Tripos if I had not persuaded him.
Well, I wonder why he does not come to tell me of his triumph.

_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 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?...

* * * * *

[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 wo