"You are implacable in your righteous anger. Let me hope that the time may come when my mother may atone for what she said to you to-day. Dearest Ernestine, she startled back your young heart, just awakening to its truest instincts; it was a poor preparation for what I wished to say to you to-day, and yet,--and yet I must speak,--I can be silent no longer. Yes, Ernestine, I wished to-day to ask you to be my wife. I wished to entreat of you the sacrifice that marriage demands of every woman, and of you more especially; and I firmly believe that if you could have listened first to my views of the duties and the lot of a wife, they would not have seemed to you as terrible as from the lips of my practical mother. I hope to be able to shield you from the hard materialism of life that so alarms you, and to which my mother attaches too much importance. My white rose shall not be planted in a kitchen-garden. You shall be the pride and ornament of my life. I ask nothing from you but love for my heart, sympathy in my scientific pursuits, and allowance for my faults." He took her hand in his, and stood still. "Ernestine, will you not give me these?" With bated breath he waited for her reply. In vain his glance sought her eyes beneath their drooping lids. Ernestine stood motionless in marble-like repose, and no human being could divine what was passing in the depths of her soul. At last her pale lips breathed scarcely audibly: "I cannot,--your mother,--I cannot----" "Oh, if you cannot love me, do not make her bear the blame, do not overwhelm her with the curse of having robbed her son of the joy of his life,--that were too severe a punishment! And, if you do love me, conquer your pride nobly by showing her how she has mistaken you. Show her all the woman in you, and prove to her that you are capable of self-sacrifice, and revenge could not desire for her more profound humiliation." "I cannot make the sacrifice that she demands; and if I could I would not, because she _demands_ it and makes it a condition. A soul that is free will not barter away its convictions and its aims, even though the happiness of a lifetime is at stake. When your mother asks me to resign my plan of achieving an academic career, and to bury the immature fruits of all my labours, she is excusable, for she does not dream what she asks; but when you propose such conditions, you can, not only never be my husband,--you can no longer be my friend, for you do not understand me."