The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-09-04
THE PROFESSORS PROBLEM.
[Belgravia.l


If the professor found himself at fault,
most OF ais friends would have concluded
that the subject must have been one re-
markably difficult of comprehension, for
he had spent some Of the best years of his
life over problems so exceedingly knotty
that they were wont to speak of him as "a
wonderfully clever man; all the learned
'ologies, you know, my dear; don't ask me
to explain, with that absence of defni-
ton which adds so much to fame.
And yet, after all, it was nothing so
very remarkable or extraordinary over
which he was pulling himself. The
freak OF man and the caprice of woman
would have summed it all up; but the
only 'ology it had to do with happened
10 be the one the professor knew nothing
about
"a strange thing-an unaccountable
thing" he repeated emphatically. THAT,
because poor Phillimore fancied me, he
should leave me the care of a child |!
Dear, dear me, if he had only devoted
only little more time to the Greek parti-
cles 1t was a sad mistake. Eight years
Has the child really lived with US eight
years. / suppose it must be so; and, as
Rachel SAYS, she is woman now, and she
has found for some time, fear, the house
too dull for her. l have not found il
dull, !" unused the professor, tinGe of sad
ness in his tone. "The years have been
happy-the happiest and pleasantest
have known-since little Hetty came.
am sure I never knew
how much young girl has it in her pow
or TO brighten the place she lives in. How
cheerful it has been TO hear her steps
about the place. How we should miss her
--Rachel and If she were TO leave. But
! have been neglecting her. have for
gotten that she needs something brighter
than the Lnonotonous tenor OF her lie
here. No, she is not happy; now that l
come to think of it, / have not heard her
singing for some time.
He fell into thought. Il am TO
blame, he said at last, aloud; "the house
is dull for her, and am dull, and Rachel
is dull. ought to have thought of it be-
fore. ! am not fitted, heaven Knows, to
have the charge OF young creature like
that l an afraid Phillimore made a sad
mistake, SO far as her happiness was con-
cerned, when he left her to US. l wonder
what are young girls auticipations-
what surroundings she requires2 1t must
be dull can see that now-tO be so con-
stantly with Rachel. 1 have even found
Rachel little mOnotonous myself. Yet,
after all. 1 understand so little OF woman
kind calculated the professor, sadly.
The philosopher" he uttered mus
ingly, at last, they had something to say
about women. ! believe"
He stretched out his hand, and partly
tilted The back OF book, then let it reas-
snu1a its posifio1 and scanned his crOWHaJ
shelves further. Great thinkers have
not disdain ed the subject l am sorry lit
tie Hettie has given up her singing. Well,
well" he added as he took down a pom
derous tome, I'VE will hope for better
things. I am anxious to do my duty by
the child"
An hour had slipped away, and the
professor, deep in thought, had laid down
his book for time, and was gazing, a GER
tain vague sadness perceptible in his
countenance, at the fair spring sky seen
through the fast-shut window. He was
so absorbed that he did not hear light
step pass the door, nor did he even notice
il when the step hesitated. The door was
gently opened, and the subject of his
thoughts glanced in.
Ii he had observed it. he would not have
imagined for a moment that the action
denoted any Observation-Disclosures in himself.
II was her way-a pretty, engaging way
little Hetty had from a child-that saucv,
depreciatorv glance at the philosophers on
their shelves. The philosopher in his
chair had grown wont to look for it when
she passed.
Little Hettie" was woman, young
woman certainly, and a very pretty and
bright-eyed one; but the fact that she had
quite grown up would long have been ap-
parent 10 any eyes but Mr. Rochester's
She had charming, rounded figure; the
prettiest little lovelock, chestnut and
curling, framed the piquancv of her face
her eyes alone were childish. Innocent
soft-fringed, brown eyes they were, az
clear as a moorland pool, vet willful
enough at times when Hetty chose, and
as child, she had chosen tolerabv often
And there was quite womanly air of de
cision about her. She considered she had
arrived at years of discretion, and knew
her own mind. For the matter Of that
she had known her own mind for Ions
time, and she felt it to be a thousand pitie!
the professor did not know his.
Hetty closed the door with sigh, anC
went slowly upstairs 10 her own room
sitting down, when she had reached it
not far from the glass. She had been &C
customed to admire. being young anC
pretty, her own pleasing reflection; but i
had in some way lost its charm, for hel
lately. She had begun to object to hel
hair, which was curly and would no
keep smooth, also to the youthful curve
of her cheeks. with other small details.
"It will always be the same" asserted
Hetty at last aloud, for there was no one
by 20 hear her, and she shook her heaC
scornfully, contemningly, at her pretty
image in the mirror. ~ know what h,
thinks Because he is sixteen or seven
teen years older than / am, and becaus,
ne has thought and thought till he il
getting bald, and his nice chestnut hair il
growing little gray, and because he Iove
those miserable hilosophers-musty, de
testable, stony-hearted old things tina
nothing young, or bright, or cheerful car
ever have anything to do with him. WIZ
can't he see that he is OILY thirty-eigh
after all He's not bent into vet, in spite
Of his books. The iooking-glass might tel
him little; and he has the incest darl
eyes | ever saw, and he is a muifl He i
miserable il / 90 away for day-Alis
Rachel always says so-and he follows IN,
about the room with his eyes; and b,
loves mel know he. loves me--if he i
as blind as abat
And | am woman grown" murmuret
little Hettie softly, "and ] have seer
other people now and / know, what
have known for ever so long, that there i
never, never find It out. shall actual,