“Carefully now， Aminadab； carefully， thou human machine；carefully， thou man of clay！” muttered Aylmer， more to himselfthan his assistant. “Now， if there be a thought too much or toolittle， it is all over.”
“Ho！ ho！” mumbled Aminadab. “Look， master！ look！”
Aylmer raised his eyes hastily， and at first reddened， thengrew paler than ever， on beholding Georgiana. He rushedtowards her and seized her arm with a gripe that left the printof his fingers upon it.
“Why do you come hither？ Have you no trust in yourhusband？” cried he， impetuously. “Would you throw the blightof that fatal birthmark over my labors？ It is not well done. Go，prying woman， go！”
“Nay， Aylmer，” said Georgiana with the firmness of whichshe possessed no stinted endowment， “it is not you that have aright to complain. You mistrust your wife； you have concealedthe anxiety with which you watch the development of thisexperiment. Think not so unworthily of me， my husband. Tellme all the risk we run， and fear not that I shall shrink； for myshare in it is far less than your own.”
“No， no， Georgiana！” said Aylmer， impatiently； “it must notbe.”
“I submit，” replied she calmly. “And， Aylmer， I shall quaffwhatever draught you bring me； but it will be on the sameprinciple that would induce me to take a dose of poison ifoffered by your hand.”
“My noble wife，” said Aylmer， deeply moved， “I knew notthe height and depth of your nature until now. Nothing shallbe concealed. Know， then， that this crimson hand， superficialas it seems， has clutched its grasp into your being with astrength of which I had no previous conception. I have alreadyadministered agents powerful enough to do aught except tochange your entire physical system. Only one thing remains tobe tried. If that fail us we are ruined.”
“Why did you hesitate to tell me this？” asked she.
“Because， Georgiana，” said Aylmer， in a low voice， “there isdanger.”
“Danger？ There is but one danger—that this horrible stigmashall be left 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 allwill be tested.”
He conducted her back and took leave of her with a solemntenderness which spoke far more than his words how muchwas now at stake. After his departure Georgiana became raptin musings. She considered the character of Aylmer， and didit completer justice than at any previous moment. Her heartexulted， while it trembled， at his honorable love—so pureand lofty that it would accept nothing less than perfection normiserably make itself contented with an earthlier nature thanhe had dreamed of. She felt how much more precious was sucha sentiment than that meaner kind which would have bornewith the imperfection for her sake， and have been guilty oftreason to holy love by degrading its perfect idea to the levelof the actual； and with her whole spirit she prayed that， fora single moment， she might satisfy his highest and deepestconception. Longer than one moment she well knew it couldnot be； for his spirit was ever on the march， ever ascending，and each instant required something that was beyond the scopeof the instant before.
The sound of her husband’s footsteps aroused her. He bore acrystal goblet containing a liquor colorless as water， but brightenough to be the draught of immortality. Aylmer was pale； butit seemed rather the consequence of a highly-wrought state ofmind and tension of spirit than of fear or doubt.
“The concoction of the draught has been perfect，” said he，in answer to Georgiana’s look. “Unless all my science havedeceived me， it cannot fail.”
“Save on your account， my dearest Aylmer，” observed hiswife， “I might wish to put off this birthmark of mortalityby relinquishing mortality itself in preference to any othermode. Life is but a sad possession to those who have attainedprecisely the degree of moral advancement at which I stand.
Were I weaker and blinder it might be happiness. Were Istronger， it might be endured hopefully. But， being what I findmyself， methinks I am of all mortals the most fit to die.”
“You are fit for heaven without tasting death！” replied herhusband “But why do we speak of dying？ The draught cannotfail. Behold its effect upon this plant.”
On the window seat there stood a geranium diseased withyellow blotches， which had overspread all its leaves. Aylmerpoured a small quantity of the liquid upon the soil in which itgrew. In a little time， when the roots of the plant had taken upthe moisture， the unsightly blotches began to be extinguishedin a living verdure.
“There needed no proof，” said Georgiana， quietly. “Give methe goblet， I joyfully stake all upon your word.”