Little worked hard. He studied night and day. In five years he became a
lecturer, then a professor.
He soared as high as the clouds, he dipped as low as the cellars of the
London poor. He analyzed the London fog, and found it two parts smoke,
one disease, one unmentionable abominations. He published a pamphlet,
which was violently attacked. Then he knew he had done something.
But he had not forgotten Caroline. He was walking one day in the
Zoological Gardens, and he came upon a pretty picture,—flesh and blood,
too.
Lady Caroline feeding buns to the bears! An exquisite thrill passed
through his veins. She turned her sweet face and their eyes met. They
recollected their first meeting seven years before, but it was his turn
to be shy and timid. Wonderful power of age and sex! She met him with
perfect self-possession.
“Well meant, but indigestible, I fear” (he alluded to the buns).
“A clever person like yourself can easily correct that” (she, the
slyboots, was thinking of something else).
In a few moments they were chatting gayly. Little eagerly descanted upon
the different animals; she listened with delicious interest. An hour
glided delightfully away.
After this sunshine, clouds.
To them suddenly entered Mr. Raby and a handsome young man. The
gentlemen bowed stiffly and looked vicious—as they felt. The lady of
this quartette smiled amiably—as she did not feel.
“Looking at your ancestors, I suppose,” said Mr. Raby, pointing to the
monkeys; “we will not disturb you. Come.” And he led Caroline away.
Little was heart-sick. He dared not follow them. But an hour later he
saw something which filled his heart with bliss unspeakable.
Lady Caroline, with a divine smile on her face, feeding the monkeys!