You could not expect, who indeed could wish a lady to be scientific in her ways of regarding things?
Was she not the live concentration, the perfect outcome, of the vast poetic show of Nature?
In shape, in motion of body and brain, in tone and look, in color and hair, in faithfulness to old dolls and carelessness of hearts, was she not the sublimation, the essence of sunsets, and fading roses, and butterflies, and snows, and running waters, and changing clouds, and cold, shadowy moonlight?
He argued thus more now in sorrow than in anger; for what was the woman but a bubble on the sand of the infinite soulless sea--a bubble of a hundred lovely hues, that must shine because it could not help it, and for the same reason break?
She was not to blame.

Let her shine and glow, and sparkle, and vanish.

For him, he cared for nothing but science--nothing that did not promise one day to yield up its kernel to the seeker.

To him science stood for truth, and for truth in the inward parts stood obedience to the laws of Nature.

If he was one of a poor race, he would rise above his fellows by being good to them in their misery; while for himself he would confess to no misery.