Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. She had never understood how much knowledge had been kept from her because she was a woman and even began to doubt the methods of the Church, something she never would have dared before. "Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. The particulars of her engagement were very clear in her memory. It was shameful, but again, her mother had prepared her for it. “No, Lucy, it isn’t fine and I am sorry. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said. Her desires were not for riches. She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. The place pulsed with music too loud to converse above. Certainly you have a reason. Shall I bring off anything?" he added, looking eagerly round. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription.
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