"Dearest Georgiana, I have spent much thought upon the subject,"
hastily interrupted Aylmer. "I am convinced of the perfect
practicability of its removal."

"If there be the remotest possibility of it," continued Georgiana,
"let the attempt be made, at whatever risk. Danger is nothing to rue;
for life, while this hateful mark makes me the object of your horror
and disgust,--life is a burden which I would fling down with joy.
Either remove this dreadful hand, or take my wretched life! You have
deep science. All the world bears witness of it. You have achieved
great wonders. Cannot you remove this little, little mark, which I
cover with the tips of two small fingers? Is this beyond your power,
for the sake of your own peace, and to save your poor wife from
madness?"

"Noblest, dearest, tenderest wife," cried Aylmer, rapturously, "doubt
not my power. I have already given this matter the deepest
thought,--thought which might almost have enlightened me to create a
being less perfect than yourself. Georgiana, you have led me deeper
than ever into the heart of science. I feel myself fully competent to
render this dear cheek as faultless as its fellow; and then, most
beloved, what will be my triumph when I shall have corrected what
Nature left imperfect in her fairest work! Even Pygmalion[3], when his
sculptured woman assumed life, felt not greater ecstasy than mine will
be."

"It is resolved, then," said Georgiana, faintly smiling. "And, Aylmer,
spare me not, though you should find the birthmark take refuge in my
heart at last."